Exception
by A-D-E-E-E-R
Summary: The Holmes boy's motto- caring is not an advantage. Do not stray towards sentiment. Their niece was the exception. Being the daughter and niece of three Holmes siblings is hard. Even harder when the most normal one dies.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer- Sherlock belongs to the BBC.**

**Hey guys, so I have decided to upload my Sherlock fanfiction as well as my other Doctor Who one so... I am still not sure what possessed me to become so obsessed with writing at the minute but I am not complaining! I will try to upload both my stories as soon as I can but it just depends what mood I am in to write more of one or the other. I do write a little of each every day though. Please review, it means the absolute world to me and I really appreciate anything that you can give me to help me become a better writer since I am only young. Anyway, enjoy! **

"Alessandra Holmes, get down here now!" Sherlock's booming voice bellowed from the living room.

The said girl rolled her sapphire coloured eyes and rolled off her bed lazily. She shuffled into the living room.

"You called dear Uncle?" Alex asked sweetly, giving him her most innocent smile.

Sherlock was sat staring out of the window of their new flat, deducing the people that walked by.

"Ah, Alessandra," he turned menacingly and towered over her, "how opportune that you should find yourself standing in my presence."

"Opportune indeed, sir. I sense that you bear news that begs to be delivered," she replied, getting into the game.

"You sense correct," Sherlock said in his deep, baritone voice.

Alex couldn't hold it in any longer and dropped the false persona,

"Did it work?" she asked excitedly.

Sherlock's face split into a grin as he held out his bright pink hands,

"Like a treat."

Alex squealed in delight and examined her uncle's skin, flipping his hands over and raking her eyes across the surface of the flesh. Sherlock smiled fondly, she was so much like him that it was scary.

"Anderson isn't going to know what hit him," she grinned maliciously, "Oh and I nearly forgot." Alex punched Sherlock hard in the ribs causing him to grunt in pain.

"What was that for?" he whined nursing his side.

"_That _was for calling me Alessandra," she threw over her shoulder as she waltzed into the kitchen, "Tea?"

Sherlock nodded his agreement but his eyes had focussed on his blackberry in his pink hand.

"On second thoughts, Alex, fancy heading to the morgue?" he asked her.

By the time Alex had put down the mug and walked back into the living room, Sherlock had already flown out of the door, his coat billowing majestically behind him.

"Every bloody time," she muttered as she pulled on her trench coat and headed out of the door.

* * *

Fourteen year old Alex was the only niece of Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes and had been in their care after their sister Maybelline committed suicide when Alex was just six years old. Alex originally had lived with Mycroft, him being the eldest and all but his schedule became too overrun with the small, teeny job of practically running the country.

So Alex was given to good ol' Uncle Sherlock. Now most people wouldn't let a sociopath like Sherlock within a two mile radius of their child, but Sherlock was different with Alex. Don't get me wrong, he disliked children with a passion, all of that screaming and sticky hands and breaking things. However, ever since she could walk and talk, Alessandra always had the collected, calculating brain that could only belong to a Holmes.

She had been taken to her first crime scene when she was seven and instead of running and screaming like most children would do at seeing a dead body, she raised her eyebrows in mild curiosity and watched her Uncle's every move as he examined the corpse, with fascination. And in that moment, both Sherlock and his brother realised that the little girl had inherited their gifts.

Alessandra had always been a hit growing up at Scotland Yard. Well, I say hit… most actually wanted to hit her (Anderson and Donovan for a start), but her friend Lestrade would never let that happen (plus they knew that if anyone laid a finger on her, not only the wrath of an extremely angry Sherlock Holmes awaited but the full force of the British Government, also known as Uncle Mycroft). Both Holmes brothers were extremely protective of their niece since in both of their occupations, they made plenty of enemies that would surely use Alex to get to them. Ever since they had held her as an infant, they had vowed to never let that happen.

All in all, Alex was a good kid. She did her homework on time (most days), kept her room tidy (ish) and took turns with the washing up (usually without complaint), the only problem was, like most teenagers, sometimes she just needed to rebel, and being a Holmes, meant that she never did things by halves. At first, they thought she had a condition. But no condition fitted with Alex's symptoms.

Sometimes, lights just got too bright for her.

Things smelt too intense.

Loud piercing sirens echoed in her head.

The ground starts to spin.

Colours start to bleed into each other.

The walls start closing in.

And when this happened, she would always fall back on her primal instinct. To run. She would hop through her bedroom window and climb up onto the roof. She would then jump from roof to roof until she got to a train station. Then she would close her eyes, move her finger to a completely random place on the map, open her eyes and wherever her finger had landed, that was where she would run.

I can't tell you how many times Mycroft, Sherlock, Molly and Lestrade had almost had heart attacks when they had come up to say hello and found her bed empty, curtains wafting in the breeze of the open window.

There was even a codename for when she had ran away, that Mycroft just had to text to Anthea and the whole of the government was looking for his niece.

Boy, Alex had been grounded over incidents like that, more times than she cared to remember. Mostly, it was two days or so after she had been found that she dreaded the most. The first day, they were just ecstatic to have her home and would do practically anything for her. She knew that by the second day, she would have to hide the chocolates they had bought her the day before, because you can be assured that she wouldn't be allowed sweets for a month and then some when the shock of her departure had finally worn off.

Mycroft had the house under maximum surveillance but Alex still managed to slip through. Holmes to the core, that kid.

Another thing that had all of her 'family' scared to death was the fact that Alex was very pretty. She had the Holmes' almost porcelain pale skin, her deep blue-grey eyes and waist length black curls. Now you may be asking, how can that be a bad thing? Well to sum it up in one word: boys. The thought was enough to make her uncles' skin crawl. God help whoever decides to court young Miss Alessandra Holmes.

* * *

Alex ran down the stairs of Baker Street, taking two at a time. She shouted a hasty goodbye to Mrs Hudson and scampered out of the door to find Sherlock sat in a taxi, tapping his foot impatiently.

"What took you?" he snapped, but the small twitch of his lips took the edge off the sting.

"Oh well sorry that I was trying to be helpful and make you tea. I will leave you to die of thirst next time."

There was a moment of silence.

"You know I wouldn't actually die of-"

"Yes, I know Sherlock!"

Sherlock chuckled to himself and ruffled Alex's hair. She scowled and tried to duck under his arm and attempt to tame her rabid hair.

"You know that is a lost cause Alex?" Sherlock smiled.

Alex sighed and nodded. She leant back against the seat of the taxi as they headed to Bart's.

* * *

Alex skipped through the halls of the morgue, watching as a family grieved over the loss of yet another loved one. She couldn't help but feel that perhaps her Uncle Sherlock and Uncle Mycroft were right: caring is not an advantage. But they had always assured her that she was the exception. She couldn't help but think, how many exceptions can you have before the rule vanishes completely. The people that she cared about most were: Sherlock, Mycroft, Mrs Hudson, Molly, Lestrade and Anthea. How many spaces did she have left?

Alex was startled to find that sometime through her worries; she had reached Molly's room and found Sherlock whipping a body senseless with a riding crop. Alex shook her head warmly at her uncle and walked around the table to Molly.

"Hey, Alex!" she said, giving her a hug, "How are you?"

Alex shrugged.

"One of these days, Sherlock is going to burst a blood vessel," Alex sighed.

Molly nodded her agreement.

"So how's school?" Molly asked casually.

Alex froze.

"Fine." she answered quickly. She scanned the room for something to change the subject.

"Did you know that a light year is the distance light travels in a year=9.4605284 × 1015 meters," she rattled off from memory.

Molly smiled sadly, seeing right through Alex's plan.

"I wish you would tell us what really goes on at that school."

Alex sighed, "Nothing, just teachers think that they are so much cleverer than you and whenever you get something right, everyone just turns and looks at you."

It wasn't really lying to be honest.

Molly patted her shoulder as Sherlock emerged.

"I need to know what bruises form in the next twenty minutes. A man's alibi depends on it. Text me. Alex darling, would you get my phone, I left it in the reception," Sherlock said.

Alex huffed and jogged out of the room to the reception (she knew this place like the back of her hand).

She got to the reception only to find that her Uncle's mobile was nowhere in sight.

"Seriously?" she grumbled as she turned on her heel towards the labs that she knew Sherlock would have moved to.

"Sherlock, your phone isn't there because you left it at the flat, you idiot."

Sherlock frowned in confusion until his face cleared,

"Oh yes of course."

Alex rolled her eyes and dragged a blue stool over to where Sherlock was working. She pulled out her Richard Hannay book and let it fall open at the page that her bookmark had held.

A swift knock on the door interrupted her reading at a good bit, annoying her immensely, but she silently promised to behave at the look that Sherlock sent her from across the table. When had he moved?

The door swung open to reveal a large man with a suit and glasses, and another with a checked shirt and a walking stick. Alex shot her Uncle a look.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" she mouthed from behind her hair.

"Tenner on Afghanistan?" he mouthed back.

Alex nodded enthusiastically and turned back to her book.

"Bit different from my day," she heard the man she knew was a soldier say.

"Mike, can I borrow your phone? I left mine somewhere or other," Sherlock asked, still peering into the microscope.

"Flat, I told you," Alex murmured.

"And what's wrong with the landline?" Mike countered.

"What's right with it?" Alex muttered, still immersed in her book.

The corner of Sherlock's mouth twitched upwards at his niece's remark.

"I prefer to text."

Mike sighed, "Sorry, it is in my coat."

"Like hell, you don't even have a coat," Alex murmured quietly again.

Sherlock had to control the bubble of laughter that had threatened to rise.

"Err, here… use mine," the soldier said, fishing around in his pocket for the device.

Alex perked up from her book; she certainly hadn't been expecting that. By the look on her Uncle's face, neither had he.

"Oh, thank you."

"This is an old friend of mine, John Watson," Mike introduced.

Alex gave a small two fingered wave. He smiled back.

Sherlock flipped down the keypad on the mobile.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" he asked.

Alex leaned further forward in her seat. Was there a tenner in the bag?

"Sorry?" John asked in confusion.

"Which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq? Choose carefully, I have a tenner riding on this," Sherlock said, never taking his eyes of the phone that he was texting goodness knows who on.

Mike smiled knowingly at John.

"Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you…"

"Damn it!" Alex swore.

"Watch your language or it will be another tenner," Sherlock warned, holding out his hand, "Cough up."

"For god's sake," she grumbled as she slammed a ten pound note into his hand.

Sherlock grinned smugly as he turns to Molly who had just entered with two mugs.

"Ah Molly, coffee, thank you."

She placed a mug of hot chocolate in front of Alex and she gave her a toothy grin.

"What happened to the lipstick?" Sherlock asked as he sipped his coffee.

"It wasn't working for me," she mumbled with a blush.

"Really? I thought it was a big improvement. Your mouth is too small now."

Alex glared at Sherlock and shot Molly an apologetic smile. She shook her head signalling that it was fine but Alex could see the disappointment that had settled behind her eyes as she left the room.

"How do you feel about the violin?"

Alex's head snapped to Sherlock. Was he-?

"I'm sorry, what?" John asked. Alex got the impression that he really didn't have a clue what was going on. Bless him.

"I play the violin when I'm thinking, sometimes I don't talk for days on end and I have my teenage niece that is annoying as hell but still pretty loveable. Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other."

He was! Finally, a flatmate that Alex felt she could actually grow to like!

John still looked incredulous,

"You told them about me?" he asked Mike.

"Not a word," Mike promised.

"Then who said anything about flatmates?"

Sherlock sighed, "Alex, do you want to take this one?"

Alex smiled, "With pleasure, we told Mike this morning that we must be difficult people to find a flatmate for. Now here he is, just after lunch with an old friend clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. Wasn't a difficult leap," she finished, clearly proud of herself.

"How did you know about Afghanistan?" John asked me.

Sherlock saved Alex from her deductions by changing the subject.

"We have just moved in to a nice little flat in central London. We ought to be able to afford it. We'll meet there tomorrow evening, seven o'clock. Sorry, we have got to dash. I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary," Sherlock said as they were halfway out of the door.

"Hey, that's our shared riding crop!" Alex exclaimed.

"Well we had better go and get it then hadn't we," Sherlock replied through gritted teeth.

"Is that it then?" John called.

"Is that what?" Sherlock asked.

"We've only just met and we're going to go and look at a flat?"

"Problem?" Sherlock questioned, unfazed by John's words.

"We don't even know a thing about each other. I don't know where we are meeting. I don't even know your names," John said.

Alex and Sherlock shared a glance and Alex nodded at him, signalling for him to take this one.

Sherlock smirked,

"I know you are an army doctor and you have been invalided home from Afghanistan. You have got a brother worried about you, but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him, possibly because he is an alcoholic, more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic, quite correctly I am afraid. That's enough to be going on with don't you think?"

Alex bit her lip to stop herself from giggling.

"The name's Sherlock Holmes, this is my lovely niece Alessandra Holmes, and the address is 221B Baker Street. Afternoon!"

Alex outright laughed as he did the sexy wink that always made Molly swoon.

"You git!" she laughed.

Sherlock grinned and looped his arm around Alex's small shoulders.

They rode back to Baker Street in a taxi and Alex went to Mrs Hudson's.

The elderly woman was watching Connie Prince on television when she walked in.

"Hey Mrs H," Alex greeted brightly.

"Oh Alex dear, what a lovely surprise!" she said as she made her way to the girl and gave her a loving hug.

Alex breathed in the calming scent of lavender on the woman and relaxed against her shoulder. Mrs Hudson was like the classic grandmother.

Alex spent the next three hours relaxing with Mrs Hudson, watching crap television and drinking tea.

As Alex proceeded back up the stairs to her flat, her phone buzzed in her pocket.

**Hello dear, how was your trip to the morgue today?-MH**

Alex smiled at her phone.

**Mycroft, stop spying on me! It is creepy. Anyway, my day was fine. How was yours?-AH**

**Oh utterly dismal I am afraid darling. Some prime ministers have no respect.-MH**

**And you do?-AH**

**I am teeming with it.-MH**

**Mycroft, it is getting to the point that I can hear you sarcasm through text. I believe that is a serious cause for alarm.-AH**

**Your wit is as sharp as ever.-MH**

**Thank you. Good night Uncle Mycroft.-AH**

**Sweet dreams my dear-MH**

Alex pocketed her phone and walked into the living room of 221B.

Sherlock was in his mind palace and Alex, knowing better than to interrupt him, headed to her room and closed the door. She hoped that she wouldn't suffer from the nightmares that had plagued her since she was a child. Well, since she was six. She was meant to have grown out of them. That was what the psychiatrist had said when she was diagnosed with Sleep Terror Disorder. They said that she had probably developed it because of her Post Traumatic Stress Disorder that had occurred because of her mother's suicide.

_What kind of mother hangs herself in front of her child?!_

That was what people would say. But Alex would always respond with, "But she was desperate!"

But the truth was, neither Mycroft nor Sherlock would tell her what caused her mother's desperation. Whenever she brought it up when she was little, they would just pick her up into a hug and distract her by playing a board game or eating ice cream.

To be honest, she had given up trying. She couldn't bare the looks of pain on her Uncles' faces whenever she mentioned her mother.

Alex sighed and pulled the covers of her bed up to her chin.

Thankfully, there was another 'peace night' as she called them in store for her that night.

**Was it okay? The next chapter is already written but will have to wait until tomorrow to be uploaded because my mother is screaming at me to 'turn that bloody laptop off and go to sleep' haha. Please review!**

**-Abby**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN- Thanks everyone who has viewed by story! I can't believe the response it has got!**

**Special Thank you to-**

**Avis11**

**I-Am-The-TARDIS**

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**Into the Vortex**

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**For reviewing, following or favouriting.**

**You guys are the best!**

Alex and Sherlock met John at the door of Baker Street early the next morning.

"Hello!" Alex chirped.

"Ah, Mr and Miss Holmes." He greeted.

"Sherlock and Alex please," Alex shuddered.

John gave her an amused smile.

"Well this is a prime spot, it must be expensive," John observed.

Sherlock shrugged, "Well Mrs Hudson, the landlady- she's given us a special deal. I think she has a serious soft spot for Alex."

"Plus we were able to help out when her husband was sentenced to death in Florida," Alex pointed out. She really loved that old lady.

"You stopped her husband from being executed?" John asked incredulously.

"Oh no, we ensured it."

Mrs Hudson emerged from her flat and immediately embraced Alex and Sherlock.

"Hello, come on in!" she told John with a smile.

"Thank you."

The trio made their way up the stairs to the flat, John slightly slower with his limp.

"Well this could be very nice," John stated.

Alex nodded proudly,

"So we went straight ahead and moved in."

At the same time John said

"Soon as we get this rubbish cleaned up."

Alex mentally face-palmed.

"Honestly, I have been telling him since I can remember. I have sort of given up now," Alex sighed in exasperation.

"That's a skull," John pointed out.

The skull stood proudly on the top of the mantelpiece.

"Friend of ours. Well I say friend."

Alex rolled her eyes.

Mrs Hudson shuffled into the room.

"What do you think then Doctor Watson? There is another room upstairs, if you will be needing two bedrooms."

John looked extremely confused,

"Of course we will be needing two," he started.

"Oh don't worry, there's all sorts around here. Mrs Turner next door's got married ones." She reassured him.

Alex hid a smirk behind her hand.

"Sherlock! The mess you've made!" Mrs Hudson berated him as Alex helped her to try and tidy things up a little in the kitchen. Alex couldn't hear the conversation in the living room for the clattering of pots and pans as she unpacked them.

"How about these suicides then? Would have thought this would be right up your streets, you two," Mrs Hudson told Alex and Sherlock, "Three exactly the same."

Alex saw Sherlock gazing out of the window and walked up next to him.

"Four," he said.

"There has been a fourth and there is something different this time," Alex continued for him.

He gave her an approving look.

As DI Lestrade entered the room, he was ambushed by a fourteen year old girl flying at him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Hey, love. Nice to see you!" he said as he patted her back.

"Where?" Sherlock asked, ignoring the affectionate sight in front of him. He liked to get straight to the point.

"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens," Lestrade replied.

"What's new about this one, you wouldn't have come to us otherwise?" Alex asked.

Lestrade looked down at her.

"You know how they never leave notes? This one did."

Alex's eyes lit up with excitement and she could barely hold back the smile that threatened to show on her features. Sherlock almost laughed at her enthusiasm.

"Will you come?"

"Who's on forensics?" Sherlock asked.

"Anderson."

"He doesn't work well with me," Sherlock scowled.

"Well he won't be your assistant," Lestrade began.

"I _need_ an assistant," Sherlock almost shouted.

"What about Alex?"

"She and I are basically the same mind; we need someone to point out the obvious sometimes!" Sherlock argued.

"Will you come?" Lestrade asked wearily.

"Not in a police car, we will be right behind," Sherlock confirmed.

"Thank you," Lestrade said, pressing a kiss to Alex's hair and leaving.

All was silent in the flat until…

"Brilliant!" Sherlock exclaimed, spinning a giggling Alex in the air.

"Four serial suicides and now a note, oh it's Christmas!" Alex agreed.

John looked at them in shock as they both threw on their long coats in sync and dashed out of the door.

Just as Alex reached the bottom step, Sherlock put a hand on her shoulder and kept her in place.

"Wait," he whispered.

He took off up the stairs and returned with John behind him. Alex beamed at them both.

"Off out Mrs Hudson!" Alex called.

"All of you?" she asked.

Sherlock turned to her,

"Impossible suicides? Four of them? No point sitting at home when there is finally something fun going on!" he shouted with glee, pecking her on the cheek.

"Look at you all happy. It's not decent," she said smiling.

"Who cares about decent?" Alex grinned, sticking her tongue out petulantly.

"The game, Mrs Hudson, is on!" Sherlock cried.

Alex whooped.

Just as Sherlock called for a taxi, Alex remembered something.

"Sherlock, I will catch you up. I need to get something," Alex rushed.

Sherlock looked at her in concern,

"Are you okay?"

"Fine, I just need to get the… experiment from yesterday."

Sherlock mirrored Alex's evil grin as he stepped into the taxi and sped off down the road.

* * *

"Okay, you've got questions," Sherlock stated as he lowered his phone.

" Yeah, where are we going?" John asked.

"Crime scene. Next?"

"Who are you? What do you do?"

"What do you think?" Sherlock answered a question with a question. Highly annoying.

John hesitated, "I would say private detective," he said slowly.

"But?"

"But the police don't go to private detectives."

"I'm a consulting detective. Only one in the world. I invented the job," Sherlock said proudly.

"What does that mean?"

"It means when the police are out of their depth, which is always, they consult me," he explained.

"The police don't consult amateurs!" John almost laughed.

Sherlock looked at him.

"When I met you for the first time yesterday, I said, "Afghanistan or Iraq?" You looked surprised."

"Yes, how did you know?" John asked the question that had been playing on his mind.

"I didn't know, I saw. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself says military. But your conversation as you entered the room, you said trained at Bart's, so Army doctor – obvious. Your face is tanned but no tan above the wrists. You've been abroad, but not sunbathing. Your limp's really bad when you walk but you don't ask for a chair when you stand, like you've forgotten about it, so it's at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were traumatic. Wounded in action, then. Wounded in action, suntan – Afghanistan or Iraq," Sherlock explained at a hundred miles an hour.

"You said I had a therapist," John said quietly.

"You've got a psychosomatic limp – of course you've got a therapist. Then there's your brother. Your phone. It's expensive, e-mail enabled, MP3 player, but you're looking for a flatshare – you wouldn't waste money on this. It's a gift, then. Scratches. Not one, many over time. It's been in the same pocket as keys and coins. The man sitting next to me wouldn't treat his one luxury item like this, so it's had a previous owner. Next bit's easy. You know it already."

"The engraving," John answered.

"Harry Watson: clearly a family member who's given you his old phone. Not your father, this is a young man's gadget. Could be a cousin, but you're a war hero who can't find a place to live. Unlikely you've got an extended family, certainly not one you're close to, so brother it is. Now, Clara. Who's Clara? Three kisses says it's a romantic attachment. The expense of the phone says wife, not girlfriend. She must have given it to him recently – this model's only six months old. Marriage in trouble then – six months on he's just given it away. If she'd left him, he would have kept it. People do – sentiment. But no, he wanted rid of it. He left her. He gave the phone to you: that says he wants you to stay in touch. You're looking for cheap accommodation, but you're not going to your brother for help: that says you've got problems with him. Maybe you liked his wife; maybe you don't like his drinking," Sherlock continued.

"How can you _possibly_ know about the drinking?" John asked disbelievingly.

"Shot in the dark. Good one, though. Power connection: tiny little scuff marks around the edge of it. Every night he goes to plug it in to charge but his hands are shaking. You never see those marks on a sober man's phone; never see a drunk's without them. There you go, you see – you were right," Sherlock told John.

"_I _was right," John frowned, "Right about what?"

"The police don't consult amateurs," Sherlock concluded.

"That ... was amazing," John complemented in blank shock.

Sherlock turned to him in surprise.

"Do you think so?"

"Of course it was. It was extraordinary; it was quite extraordinary."

"That's not what people normally say."

"What do people normally say?"

"'Piss off', " Sherlock said, smiling briefly at John before turning back to look out of the window.

* * *

Alex ran back into the flat and picked up the pink powder dye from the microwave. She had been perfecting it so that it wouldn't come off for seventy two hours without washing it off with potassium chloride- the only reason that Sherlock wasn't still pink.

Alex hailed a taxi and walked towards the crime scene.

She groaned when she was confronted by Sergeant Grizzly, AKA Sergeant Donovan.

"What do you want?" she asked snippily.

"To do what I was asked to do got a problem with that?" Alex replied curtly. This woman really drove her insane.

"Look, we don't need the freak himself, not his freak niece," she sneered.

"Get out of my way Donovan," Alex told her through gritted teeth. She was mentally counting to ten.

"Archie! This girl wants to be on the crime scene, probably to seem cool in front of her friends. She is refusing to leave and is showing threatening behaviour," Donovan lied to a burly looking man stood next to the copper car.

Alex had grown up around Scotland Yard since she was six and she had never seen this guy before, so he was new… so he didn't know who she was and let's be honest, who would take her word for it.

Archie walked over to the blue tape.

"I am going to have to ask you to leave," he rumbled. He did have a powerful sort of aura about him.

"Look, my uncle is just in there, he will tell you-"

"She's lying," Donovan told Archie.

"Donovan, get out of my way, or I will hurt you." Alex warned in a low tone.

"What is going on?" Lestrade had appeared behind Donovan and was staring at her with dislike. He held out his hand,

"Come on Alex, Sherlock is up here."

Alex took his hand and blew out an angered breath.

"Sorry about that," he apologised.

"Not your fault," Alex reassured him.

They reached the landing where John was climbing into a blue suit. Alex (as she always did) walked into the room with her normal clothes on.

In the middle of the room, lay a middle aged woman clad in an alarming shade of pink. Sherlock tucked a stray curl out of Alex's face as they crouched down to examine the body.

"Got anything?" Lestrade asked.

Alex smiled at Sherlock who nodded, telling her that she should take this one.

"She's from out of town. Intended to stay in London for one night before returning home to… Cardiff?" Sherlock nodded with a proud smile on his face.

John knelt down to examine the body at Sherlock's request. Alex had to admit, she had really taken a liking to John. He seemed up to the challenges that life brought to the Holmes family daily and it wasn't often that you could say that about somebody.

"What took you?" Sherlock asked casually as they prodded and poked the body.

"Donovan, just the usual 'I don't know who this kid is, get her off the crime scene'," Alex imitated in a high pitched, nagging voice.

Sherlock's eyebrows rose,

"You know I could threaten her with something or other," he suggested.

Alex sighed and brushed him off. If she could deal with the hassle at school, she could deal with a pushover like Donovan. Oh god, school. She had forgotten about the fact that it was Sunday and tomorrow, she would have to endure it all over again.

Sherlock frowned. He hated the fact that people treated his Alex differently just because of her cleverness and her Holmes blood. She was a little girl in his eyes and he felt an unbelievably strong obligation to the child that she would be happy and safe. So far, the former seemed on dangerous waters. He would have to figure something out, for now, he had to concentrate on the case, and only the case.

John turned to them,

"Asphyxiation… probably. Passed out, choked on her own vomit. Can't smell any alcohol on her. It could have been a seizure, possibly drugs."

Sherlock stared back at him intensely,

"You know what it was, you've read the papers."

John sighed,

"Well, she's one of the suicides. The fourth…?"

Sherlock (in attempt to cheer his glum looking niece up) told her to explain her deductions.

Alex gave him a grateful smile, thankful for something to take her mind off the looming day.

"Victim is in her late 30s. Professional person, going by her clothes. Sherlock is mouthing media at me and I have to agree going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. Travelled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one night from the size of her suitcase."

Lestrade looked confused, "Suitcase?"

Sherlock took over,

"Yes, suitcase. She has been married at least ten years but not happily. She has had a string of lovers but none of them knew she was married. Her wedding ring, ten years old at least. The rest of her jewellery has been regularly cleaned, but not her wedding ring. State of her marriage right there. The inside of the ring is shinier than the outside, so it is regularly removed. The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger. It is not for work, look at her nails. She doesn't work with her hands, so what or _who_ does she remove her rings for? Not _one _lover, she'd never sustain the fiction of being single for that long, so more likely a string of them. Simple."

"That's brilliant," John breathed in fascination.

"Cardiff?" Lestrade asked, changing the subject slightly.

"It is a bit obvious isn't it?" Sherlock asked, Alex nodding next to him.

"It's not obvious to me," John piped up.

"Dear God, what is it like in you funny little brains, it must be so boring," Sherlock said.

"I second that dear Uncle."

Lestrade and John rolled their eyes.

"Her coat- it is slightly damp, she has been in heavy rain in the last few hours- no rain anywhere in London in that time. Under her collar is damp too. She has turned it up against the wind. She has got an umbrella in her pocket but it is dry and unused. Not just wind, strong wind- too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was intending to stay overnight, but she can't have travelled more than two or three hours, because her coat still hasn't dried. So where has there been heavy rain and strong wind in the last few hours?" Sherlock asked looking over at Alex.

She popped open her phone onto the met office and read out-

"Cardiff."

"Why do you keep saying suitcase?" Lestrade questioned him.

Alex perked up,

"Yeah, where is it?"

Sherlock began to sweep his gaze over the room too.

"She must have had a phone or an organiser. Find out who Rachel is."

"She was writing Rachel?"

Alex scoffed,

"No she was leaving an angry note in German! Of course she was writing Rachel!"

Lestrade put up his hands in mock surrender at the teen.

"So how do you know she had a suitcase then Alex?"

Alex cleared her throat dramatically,

"Tiny splash marks on her right heel and calf, not present on the left. She was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her with her right hand. You don't get that splash pattern any other way. Smallish case, going by the spread. Case that size, woman this clothes-conscious- could only be an overnight bag so we know she was staying overnight. Now where is it?"

Sherlock looked expectantly at Lestrade.

"There wasn't a case."

Silence. Sherlock and Alex looked up from the body.

"Say that again."

"There wasn't a case with her."

The Holmes' barged past the door and bellowed down the stairway, taking two steps at a time (Sherlock three).

"Suitcase! Did anyone find a suitcase? Was there a suitcase in this house?"

"There isn't a case here Sherlock!" Lestrade shouted impatiently.

"But they take the poison themselves, they swallow the pills. There are clear signs, even you lot couldn't miss them. It is murder, all of them. I don't know how. But they are not suicides, they're serial killings. We have got ourselves a serial killer, love those. Do you remember the one in Mexico Alex? You have to wait for them to make a mistake. Look at her, really look! Houston, we have a mistake. Get on to Cardiff: find out who Jennifer Wilson's family and friends were. Find Rachel!"

"What mistake?!"

The Holmes' looked at each other and beamed.

"PINK!"

They barrelled into a taxi and headed back to Baker Street.

Alex ran to her laptop and started to hack into the records office to research the victim while Sherlock slapped on some nicotine patches. Alex rolled her eyes and carried on with her research.

It was some time later when John turned up, his cane tapping behind him.

"What are you doing?" he asked Sherlock.

"Nicotine patch."

Alex tuned out of their conversation and sighed into her arms. Only fifteen hours until she was back at that place. _That place. _It was slowly sucking the life out of her.

Maybe she could run. She had done it many times before. If she set her phone to vibrate at two o'clock in the morning, she would be able to manoeuvre her body so that she was facing up underneath the metal wiring that had been placed to deter Alex from climbing up. If she was facing up, she would be able to place her hands around the barbed wire so that it didn't cut her. Then she would be able run along the roof but she would have to remember to crawl when she got to the traffic lights because of the security camera that had been installed (totally nothing to do with her) on the top of it. If she crawled, she would be able to duck behind the chimney pots and out of sight. Oh and she would have to avoid the homeless network. Damn Sherlock and his connections.

Alex sighed.

She couldn't do that to Sherlock and Mycroft again. Well, not for the simple reason of school. She stood up.

"I am going to the library, I will be back in about ten minutes," she announced, grabbing her coat.

"Have you got your phone?" Sherlock asked instantly.

Alex nodded.

"Don't worry, if someone tries to kidnap me, one of Uncle Mycroft's goons will be after them before you can say 'stalk'."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and went back to his conversation with John.

* * *

Alex shivered against the London wind and called a taxi.

"Hey, the library two blocks away please," Alex smiled, holding out a fiver.

She usually walked but it was freezing and she really wasn't in the mood. The library was almost empty, only old Mrs Sanders, the elderly widow that ran the poky bookshop. The woman was currently sleeping with her head on _the Full Illustrated Encyclopaedia of Amphibians. _Alex stifled a laugh behind her hand and walked to the shelf.

Fahrenheit 451 stared at her, its orange cover glowing temptingly. Alex flipped it out of its position amongst its brothers and sisters and leafed through it. The language was beautiful, like a crystal lake in a fresh pine-smelling wood, the snow-capped peaks of treacherous yet sleepy mountains peering out from the tree tops.

Alex grinned to herself and walked over to the counter. She shook her head at the sleeping woman and prised the library stamp out of her hand and quietly stamped the book.

"Thanks Mrs Sanders," she whispered quietly. The elderly lady gave an undignified grunt in her unconscious state and turned her head the other way.

Alex giggled as silently as she could as she made her way back to the flat. She just walked, seeing as no taxis were passing by and she had gathered some warmth from being inside. The prospect of her new book also gave her a bit of a spring in her step as her mind was drifting away from the topic of school. The spring was soon lost however when she walked into the flat to find Sherlock and John panting against the wall and Mrs Hudson close to tears in the hall.

"Sherlock, what have you done?" she asked tearfully.

"Mrs Hudson?" Alex asked in concern.

Sherlock and John whipped around to look at Alex having not seeing her come in.

"Upstairs," Mrs Hudson sniffled.

The trio set off up the stairs, John and Sherlock careful to keep Alex behind them.

They burst in to find Lestrade sat in the armchair and a dozen police officers milling around the flat, tipping out their draws and rifling through their possessions.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Alex fumed.

"Well, I knew you'd find the case. I'm not stupid," Lestrade answered looking at Sherlock.

"Could have fooled me," Sherlock muttered, "You can't just break into our flat. I thought you were supposed to be Alex's friend!"

"I am her friend! And you can't withhold evidence. And I didn't break into your flat."

Alex tutted, "So what do you call this then?"

Lestrade looked around at his officers innocently, "Drugs Bust."

Alex saw red and stormed off up the stairs when she heard the floor board in her bedroom creak under someone's weight. She swung open her door to see Anderson of all people, going through her drawers.

"Get the hell out of my bedroom," she ordered through gritted teeth.

Anderson pointed to himself innocently, "Me? Oh I am just doing my job little Miss Holmes."

"I told you to leave," she ordered.

Anderson scoffed and picked up a giraffe toy that she had been given by Mycroft when he went to Cambodia.

"Put that down. You shouldn't even be here!" Alex yelled, balling her hands into fists.

It isn't my fault that you uncle is a junkie."

Alex felt blood trickle down her palm where she had sunk her nails to hard into in attempt not to bat the clueless idiot.

"He. Is. Not. A. Junkie."

"He obviously is! I don't have a clue why the authorities let him have you. You would have been better being adopted or something when your useless mother topped herself."

Alex couldn't hold it in and dived for the bas- _idiot._ Suddenly, she felt a strong hand pull her back and she was pressed into the long coat that belonged to her Uncle.

"Anderson, get out of my niece's room, or I will make you regret the day you began your pitiful existence," Sherlock growled menacingly.

Anderson narrowed his eyes but proceeded downstairs, not without mumbling a few very_ very_ naughty words.

Sherlock turned to Alex who was shaking with fury.

"Al', don't listen to him. He just doesn't like anyone who is different from him or cleverer than him (which is everyone); you should know that by now, eh?" Sherlock said gently.

Alex said nothing but buried her face into Sherlock's chest. He patted her back and let his hand rest there.

"Now come on, we have got a murder to solve," Sherlock grinned.

Alex smiled back weakly and nodded, blowing out a final, calming breath as they emerged back into the living room.

John and Lestrade glanced at them suspiciously but Sherlock discreetly shook his head, signalling for them not to say anything.

"Help us properly and I'll stand them down," Lestrade negotiated, still keeping his eye trained on Alex. He had practically helped raise her.

"This is childish," Sherlock spat.

"Well I am dealing with a child!" Lestrade countered, "Sherlock, this is our case. I'm letting you in, but you do not go off on your own. Clear?"

"Oh, what, so you set up a pretend drugs bust to bully me?" Sherlock asked venomously.

"It stops being pretend if they find anything," Lestrade warned.

This time, it was Alessandra that spoke,

"Oi, he said he is clean and he is! Give him a break. Everybody makes mistakes, doesn't mean that they are going to carry them through! Cut him some slack, all of you! He does all of your dirty work for you while you take all of the credit and then the first chance you get, you stab him in the bloody back!" Alex fumed.

Sherlock squeezed her shoulder, silently telling her to calm down.

Lestrade looked ashamed for just a moment before his professional mask was slipped back into place.

"We found Rachel," he informed them.

Sherlock whipped around to face him.

"Who is she?"

"Jennifer Wilson's only daughter."

"Her daughter? Why would she write her daughter's name? Why?" Alex frowned.

Sherlock nodded to her, his face that of deep concentration. It just didn't make sense.

"Never mind that Sherlock Junior. We found the case," Anderson sneered, pointing to the pink case that currently lay on the table, "According to someone, the murderer has the case, and we found it in the hands of our favourite psychopath."

Sherlock looked at him despairingly.

"I'm not a psychopath, Anderson. I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research."

Alex rolled her eyes.

"If you are a sociopath, why do you love her so much?" Anderson countered as he pointed at Alex.

"She is the exception," Sherlock muttered distractedly, "You need to bring Rachel in. You need to question her. _I_ need to question her."

"She's dead," Lestrade informed him.

"Excellent, how, when and why? Is there a connection? There has to be," Sherlock rattled off.

"Well, I doubt it, since she's been dead for fourteen years. Technically she was never alive. Rachel was Jennifer Wilson's stillborn daughter, fourteen years ago."

John and Alex grimaced sadly. _Poor woman_. Sherlock looked thoroughly confused.

"No, that's ... that's not right. How ... Why would she do that? Why?"

"Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments? Yup – sociopath; I'm seeing it now," Anderson said sarcastically.

"She didn't think about her daughter. She scratched her name on the floor with her fingernails. She was dying. It took effort. It would have hurt," Sherlock explained to him, as if talking to a four year old child. Sherlock swore that his Alex was cleverer than Anderson when she was three months old.

"You said that the victims all took the poison themselves, that he makes them take it. Well, maybe he ... I don't know, talks to them? Maybe he used the death of her daughter somehow," John suggested.

Sherlock turned to face him,

"Yeah, but that was ages ago. Why would she still be upset?"

Alex put her head in her hands as the whole room fell silent at Sherlock's words. Sometimes her Uncle could be seriously thick.

"Not good?" he asked John.

"_Bit _not good, yeah."

Sherlock seemed unaffected as his mind worked overtime.

"Yeah, but if you were dying ... if you'd been murdered: in your very last few seconds what would you say?" he asked John and Alex.

Alex paused to think. What would she say? Sherlock's name? Mycroft's name? Mrs Hudson's name? Molly's name? Lestrade's name? Even… John's name?

Speaking of John, he had no problem thinking up what he would say,

"Please God let me live."

Sherlock looked despairingly, "Oh use your imagination."

John's face was full of pain as he said,

"I don't have to."

It was in that moment that Alex decided that John would fit into the family no problem. He had seen the horrors of war but still came with them to the murder scene, so he wasn't afraid.

"Yeah, but if you were clever, really clever ... Jennifer Wilson running all those lovers: she was clever," Sherlock said as he began to pace again.

"So she is trying to tell us something?" Alex clarified.

Sherlock nodded.

Mrs Hudson took this moment to enter the room,

"Isn't the doorbell working? Your taxi's here for you and Alex, Sherlock," she told him motherly.

"I didn't order a taxi. Go away," he muttered distractedly with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Sherlock!" Alex chastised and walked over to Mrs Hudson.

"Oh, dear. They're making such a mess. What are they looking for?" she worried.

"It is a drugs bust Mrs Hudson," John told her.

Her face suddenly clouded with panic,

"But they are just for my hip! They are _herbal soothers_."

Alex patted her shoulder.

Alex knew that it was only a matter of time before Sherlock exploded. 5…4…3…2…1

"Shut up, everybody, shut up! Don't move, don't speak, don't breathe. I'm trying to think. Anderson, face the other way. You're putting me off!" Sherlock bellowed.

Right on cue.

"What? My face is?!" Anderson exclaimed incredulously.

"Everybody quiet and still. Anderson, turn your back," Lestrade ordered.

The team complied but –of course- Anderson began to kick up a fuss.

"Oh for God's sake!"

"Back. Now. Please."

"What about your taxi?" Mrs Hudson piped up from her position in the doorway.

"MRS HUDSON!" Sherlock bawled furiously.

"Sherlock!" Alex glared at him viciously before following Mrs Hudson's retreating form down the staircase.

"I am sorry about Sherlock. He just gets a bit… carried away," Alex apologised.

"Oh it is fine dear. I know what he can be like when he is on one of his little cases," Mrs Hudson brushed off.

"Well, I had better see to this taxi," Alex announced and headed to the door. She vaguely heard Mrs Hudson mutter about her being a good girl before she opened the door and stepped out onto the pavement where an old cabbie was leaning casually on his taxi. He was dressed in shabby clothes and his shoes were tatty and well-worn.

"Sorry sir, we didn't order a taxi, I think you have the wrong address," Alex told him politely using her 'kind' voice.

The cabbie looked at her.

"Oh, I have the right address," he said.

"N-no, we haven't ordered any taxi," Alex told him again.

"But I think you need one," he whispered in a low voice.

Alex frowned, "Look mate, we haven't ordered any taxi and I don't need one. There must have been a mix up," Alex said and turned to head back inside.

"Oh there has been no mix up Alessandra Holmes."

Alex froze on the steps. She slowly turned to face him.

"How do you know my name?"

"I tell you what. You be a good girl and wait patiently in my taxi for your Uncle to come and I will tell you everything. If you don't, well I am afraid that lovely landlady of yours might have to be dealt with," he threatened.

Suddenly, everything clicked.

"It was you wasn't it? The suicides. They weren't suicides at all. You murdered them," Alex concluded, her eyes swimming with recognition as the fog cleared. _Who hunts in the middle of a crowd?_

"Good girl. Now do as you are told," he patronized and Alex had no option but to comply as she slid into the back seat of the taxi.

"Oh and give me your phone," he ordered.

Alex handed it over without complaint, remembering the threat about Mrs Hudson.

She watched as the cabbie brushed his thumb over its screen and shoved it in his pocket. He turned on his heel and entered 221B.

Alex closed her eyes. _Please don't let anything happen to them._

**Please Review!**

**-Abby**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Hey again everybody! I am still amazed at the amount of people that have viewed my story. Thank you so much to everyone who clicked on it, I am sure you understand how much it means to me. **

**Thanks to:**

**I'mClueingForLooks**

**ODD CANDY**

**singtothedarksideofthemoon**

**And once again to the amazing: I-Am-The-TARDIS (I am so glad that you like it so much haha! I honestly didn't mean to make you cry though!)**

**Thank you to all of you for favouriting, following or reviewing!**

John was sat at the laptop tracing the dead woman's phone when shock flooded through him.

"Sherlock…" he started.

Sherlock ran over to him and looked over his shoulder at the laptop screen.

"What is it? Quickly, where?" Sherlock asked frantically.

The screen zoomed in and settled on-

"It is here. It is in 221B Baker Street," John said.

Sherlock frowned and straightened up,

"How can it be here? How?"

"Well, maybe it was in the case when you brought it back and it fell out somewhere," Lestrade reasoned.

Sherlock shook his head.

"What and I didn't notice it? Me? I didn't notice?" he muttered in disbelief.

"Anyway, we texted him and he called back," John told Lestrade.

"Guys, we're also looking for a mobile somewhere here, belonged to the victim ..." Lestrade called out to his team who all set to work immediately trying to find the phone.

Sherlock zoned out.

_'Who do we trust, even if we don't know them?'_

_'Who passes unnoticed wherever they go?'_

_'Who hunts in the middle of a crowd?'_

The pieces clicked as Sherlock turned to the doorway and saw the taxi driver standing stock-still, staring at him. In his hand was the pink iPhone. He typed on the screen and Sherlock's phone buzzed.

_COME WITH ME _

Sherlock tried to fight the smile that threatened to show. Finally, the wag reveals himself. The cabbie turned and made his way back down the stairs.

"Sherlock, you okay?" John asked in concern.

"What? Yeah, yeah, I-I'm fine," Sherlock said distantly.

"So, how can the phone be here?" John asked.

"Don't know," Sherlock said, still watching the spot where the taxi driver had stood.

"I'll try it again," John decided as he took his own phone out of his trouser pocket.

"Good idea," Sherlock said, beginning to slowly head out of the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Fresh air. Just popping outside for a moment. Won't be long," Sherlock assured him as he walked down the stairs.

"You sure you're all right?" John frowned.

"I'm fine!" Sherlock shouted from downstairs.

Sherlock stood in the open door of 221B and looked at the taxi driver (Jeff).

Jeff was in the same position that Alex had found him in.

"Taxi for Sherlock Holmes," he said.

"I didn't order a taxi," Sherlock replied, smiling slightly.

"Doesn't mean you don't need one," Jeff countered.

"You're the cabbie, the one who stopped outside Northumberland Street," Sherlock deduced, "It was you, not your passenger."

"See? No-one ever thinks about the cabbie. It's like you're invisible. Just the back of an 'ead. Proper advantage for a serial killer," Jeff smiled sinisterly.

"Is this a confession?" Sherlock asked, taking a few steps forwards, his eyes darting back towards the windows of his flat.

"Oh, yeah. An' I'll tell you what else: if you call the coppers now, I won't run. I'll sit quiet and they can take me down, I promise," Jeff promised.

"Why?"

"'Cause you're not going to do that."

"Am I not?" Sherlock almost laughed.

"I didn't kill those four people, Mr. 'olmes. I spoke to 'em ... and they killed themselves. An' if you get the coppers now, I promise you one thing," Jeff leaned closer towards Sherlock, "I will never tell you what I said."

"No-one else will die, though, and I believe they call that a result," Sherlock supposed.

"An' you won't ever understand how those people died. What kind of result do you care about? Oh and then of course there is your niece."

Sherlock's head snapped towards Jeff.

"Leave her out of this," he ordered sharply.

"Oh but Mr Holmes, she is already in it," Jeff laughed and moved away from the cab window to reveal Alex hidden behind her black curls, silently watching the scene unfold.

Sherlock stiffened at the sight of her.

"Pretty little thing ain't she. I would quite like to keep her," Jeff taunted.

"What do you want me to do?" Sherlock asked through gritted teeth, never taking his eyes off Alex.

"Let me take you for a ride."

"So you can kill me too?" Sherlock asked.

"I don't wanna kill you, Mr 'olmes. I'm gonna talk to yer ... and then you're gonna kill yourself."

Jeff opened up the taxi door and sat in the driver's seat.

Sherlock hesitated. However, as he looked at Alex's wide eyes, he made up his mind and slid into the seat next to her.

Jeff gave a triumphant grin in the rear view mirror and began to drive.

Sherlock immediately raked his eyes over Alex's body for any injuries.

"Sherlock, I am fine," she whispered.

He blew out a relieved breath and nodded, looping an arm around his niece's shoulder. Alex nestled into Sherlock's long coat and buried her face in his scarf. It was silent for a moment, Sherlock always keeping a protective arm around his Alex until he decided the quiet needed to be broken. He had questions.

"How did you find me?"

"Oh, I recognised yer, soon as I saw you chasing my cab. Sherlock 'olmes! I was warned about you and your little Alessandra. I've been on your website, too. Brilliant stuff! Loved it!" Jeff raved with a genuine smile.

"Who warned you about us?" Sherlock asked, determined not to be side tracked by Jeff's praise.

"Just someone out there who's noticed the two of you," Jeff brushed off.

"Who?" Alex demanded.

Sherlock gave a slight shake of the head and squeezed her thin arm. He would do the talking.

"Who would notice us?"

"You're too modest, Mr 'olmes," Jeff said, catching Sherlock's eye in the mirror once more.

"I'm really not."

Sherlock felt Alessandra smile into the crook of his neck.

"You've got yourselves a fan. They send their love to little Alessandra."

Alex shivered involuntarily and Sherlock's arms tightened around her.

"Tell me more."

That's all you're gonna know…" Jeff paused," ... in this lifetime.

The cab carried on for a little longer, all the while in silence. Finally, they pulled up outside two big buildings lined up next to each other. Alex recognised the place immediately. One of her favourite pass times when she was younger with Sherlock was to learn about all of the places in London and then go on the London Eye and see which ones she could remember the names of.

"Where are we?" Sherlock asked, knowing full well where they were.

"You know every street in London. You know exactly where we are," Jeff smirked.

"Roland-Kerr Further Education College. Why here?" Alex asked, ignoring Sherlock's previous warning.

"Oh Cinderella speaks does she? Very good Miss Holmes," Jeff praised, ignoring Sherlock's glare, "It's open; cleaners are in. One thing about being a cabbie: you always know a nice quiet spot for a murder. I'm surprised more of us don't branch out."

"And you just walk your victims in? How?" Sherlock interrogated.

Jeff reached into his pocket and pulled out a shiny black gun and pointed it at Sherlock. Alex's eyes widened as she looked to her Uncle in panic.

Sherlock just rolled his eyes in disappointment.

"Oh dull."

"Don't worry. It gets better," Jeff assured him.

Alex couldn't believe what she was seeing. Her Uncle had a bloody gun pointed at him and he was still winding him up?!

"You can't make people take their own lives at gunpoint."

"I don't. It's much better than that," Jeff said as he lowered the gun and Alex let out the breath that she didn't know she had been holding.

"Don't need this with you two, 'cause you'll follow me," and with that, Jeff walked off into the college.

Sherlock looked to Alex.

"You know what happens now," he told her.

She huffed exasperatedly and dragged herself out of the taxi.

Sherlock took her hand and she felt something in her grasp. She subtly looked down and found a small note in her palm.

_Fake Gun._

Alex smirked. Of course. She caught up with Sherlock and took his hand again. They followed Jeff through the corridors until he lead them into one of the classrooms with long wooden tables and plastic school chairs. Alex cringed at the familiarity as they all sat down.

"Bit risky, wasn't it? Took us away under the eye of about half a dozen policemen. They're not that stupid. And Mrs Hudson will remember you," Sherlock pointed out.

"You call that a risk? Nah," Jeff pulled out one small bottle containing a few capsules out of his cardigan pocket, "_This…_is a risk."

Alex frowned. _What the hell was this all about?_

"Ooh, I like this bit. 'Cause you don't get it yet, do yer? But you're about to. I just have to do this," Jeff grinned, clearly enjoying himself immensely.

He then reached into his right pocket and pulled out another bottle, identical to the one that stood already on the table.

"You weren't expecting that, were yer?" Jeff sneered, "Ooh, you're going to love this."

"Love what?" Sherlock asked a crisp edge to his voice.

Jeff leaned back lazily in his chair, "Sherlock and Alessandra 'olmes. Look at you two! 'Ere in the flesh. That website of yours: your fan told me about it."

"Our fan?"

"You are brilliant. You are. A proper genius and teaching your niece an' all. Keeping tradition goin' that's what I like to see. "The Science of Deduction." Now that is proper thinking. Between you and me sitting 'ere, why can't people think? Don't it make you mad? Why can't people just think?" he rambled furiously.

Realisation dawned on the Holmeses,

"Oh so you are a proper genius too!" Sherlock said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Jeff scoffed.

"Don't look it, do I? Funny little man drivin' a cab. But you'll know better in a minute. Chances are it'll be the last thing you ever know."

"Okay, two bottles. Explain," Sherlock told him, getting down to business.

Alex leaned forward in curiosity.

"There's a good bottle and a bad bottle. You take the pill from the good bottle, you live; take the pill from the bad bottle, you die," Jeff explained.

"Both bottles are of course, identical."

"In every way."

"And you know which one is good and which is bad," Alex clarified.

"Of course_ I_ know!" he laughed.

"But we don't?" Sherlock asked.

"Wouldn't be a game if you knew," Jeff leered, "You're the ones who choose."

"Why should we? We've got nothing to go on. What's in it for us?"

"I 'aven't told you the best bit yet. Whatever bottle you two choose, I take the pill from the other one – and then, together, we take our medicine," Jeff smiled sinisterly.

Sherlock grinned.

"Remember of course that if you pick the wrong bottle, you would not only be responsible for your own death, but also little Alessandra," Jeff reminded him.

Sherlock's smile dropped and he had Alex's hand in a vice like grip.

"This is between you and me, Alex has no part in it," Sherlock told him forcefully.

"Oh, is it Alex? I thought you preferred Alessandra. Why didn't you correct me darlin'? In answer to your Uncle's question, I am afraid that you will have to play the game also," Jeff mocked.

"It's not a game. It's chance," Sherlock scoffed.

"I've played four times. I'm alive. It's not chance, Mr 'olmes, it's chess. It's a game of chess, with one move, and one survivor. And this ... this ... is the move."

Jeff slid one of the bottles to Alex and Sherlock's side of the table.

"Did I just give you the good bottle or the bad bottle? You can choose either one. Are you ready to play yet Mr Holmes?"

"Play what? It's a fifty-fifty chance," Sherlock announced loudly.

"You're not playin' the numbers, you're playin' me. Did I just give you the good pill or the bad pill? Is it a bluff? Or a double-bluff? Or a triple-bluff?"

Alex shook her head. This was madness.

"Still just chance," Sherlock said stubbornly.

"Four people in a row? It's not just chance."

"Luck."

"It's genius. I know 'ow people think. I know 'ow people think I think. I can see it all, like a map inside my 'ead. Everyone's so stupid – even you. Or maybe God just loves me."

Sherlock folded his hands under his chin in his 'thinking pose' and leans forward onto the desk.

"Either way, you're wasted as a cabbie."

"So, you risked your life four times just to kill strangers. Why?" Alex asked. She had a feeling that they were straying away from the root of the problem.

Jeff just looked down at the bottles.

"Time to play."

Despite Sherlock's cautionary gaze, she felt that it was her turn to talk.

"Oh, I am playing. This is my turn. There's shaving foam behind your left ear. Nobody's pointed it out to you. Traces of where it's happened before, so obviously you live on your own; there's no-one to tell you. But there's a photograph of children. The children's mother has been cut out of the picture. If she'd died, she'd still be there. The photograph's old but the frame's new. You think of your children but you don't get to see them. Estranged father. She took the kids, but you still love them and it still hurts," Alex deduced.

Sherlock couldn't help the proud look that emerged onto his face. That was his Alex.

"But there is more Alex isn't there," Sherlock told her.

Alex frowned and stared at Jeff more deeply. Her head tilted to the side in concentration,

"Clothes, Alex," Sherlock hinted. He was back into teaching mode.

"Recently laundered but everything he is wearing's at least ... three years old? Keeping up appearances but not planning ahead. And here you are on a kamikaze murder spree. What's that about?" Alex laughed. Suddenly, her eyes widened, "Of course," she breathed.

Sherlock looked at her. He hadn't picked up on her deduction.

"Three years ago – is that when they told you?" she asked softly.

"Told me what?" he snapped.

"That you are a dead man walking."

Sherlock couldn't feel more pleased with his protégée than in that moment.

"Aneurism," he tapped the side of his head, "Right 'ere. Any breath could be my last."

"And because you're dying, you've just murdered four people," Alex said, trying to understand.

"I've_ outlived_ four people. That's the most fun you can 'ave on an aneurism."

It was Sherlock's turn again.

"No. No, there's something else. You didn't just kill four people because you're bitter. Bitterness is a paralytic. Love is a much more vicious motivator. Somehow this is about your children," he deduced.

"Ohh," he looked down at his shoes, "you two are good aren't you."

"But how?"

"When I die, they won't get much, my kids. Not a lot of money in driving cabs."

"Or serial killing," Sherlock contradicted.

"You'd be surprised. I 'ave a sponsor. For every life I take, money goes to my kids. The more I kill, the better off they'll be. You see? It's nicer than you think. " he said smugly.

"Who would sponsor a serial killer?" Alex asked incredulously.

"Who would be a fan of Alessandra and Sherlock Holmes? You're not the only one to enjoy a good murder. There's others out there just like you, except you're just a man ... and they're so much more than that," Jeff said instantly.

"What do you mean 'more than a man'? An organisation? What?" Sherlock asked.

"There's a name no-one says, an' I'm not gonna say it either. Now, enough chatter," he nods down to the bottles on the desk, "Time to choose."

"What if we don't choose either? We could just walk out of here," Sherlock reasoned.

Jeff sighed and took out the gun again.

"You can take your fifty-fifty chance, or I can shoot you in the head."

Alex stiffened. Wait… the note. Oh, of course. It was fake.

"I'll have the gun, please," Sherlock said.

"Are you sure?"

"Definitely. The gun."

"You don't wanna phone a friend?"

"The. Gun," Sherlock said confidently.

Jeff's lips formed a thin line as he pulled the trigger and a small pitiful flame poked out of the muzzle.

"We know a real gun when we see one," Sherlock said smugly.

Alex smirked.

"Clearly. Well, this has been very interesting. I look forward to the court case," Sherlock smiled, "Come along Alex," he said as he stood to leave.

Alex followed him with a spring in her step. Well that could have gone a lot worse.

"Just before you go, did you figure it out?" Jeff asked from his position at the desk.

_Of course, it couldn't have just ended there could it? _Alex thought bitterly.

**Please Please Please review. Constructive criticism greatly appreciated.**

**-Abby **


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Sorry that this is so short, it was meant to be a part of the previous chapter that I uploaded about half an hour ago. I really am thick at the best of times. Slight warning- this chapter gets pretty angsty. Okay very angsty. **

"Of course. Child's play," Sherlock said arrogantly.

"Well, which one, then?"

Sherlock opened the door for Alex but showed no signs of leaving himself.

"Which one would you 'ave picked, just so I know whether I could have beaten you? Just so I know if I would have seen your little girl over there take her last breath," Jeff asked, baiting him.

Sherlock's face hardened.

"Come on, play the game," Jeff beckoned.

Sherlock looked to Alex who was staring back at him with pleading eyes. He bent down and whispered in her ear.

"Alex, go down to the main road and call Mycroft, he will pick you up and keep you safe."

"I am not leaving you here, you will bloody kill yourself!" she hissed back.

"Al' I know what I am doing. Now go," he told her forcefully.

She opened her mouth to protest but Sherlock silenced her with a finger to her lips.

"Trust me sweetheart, I will be fine. Now go and call Mycroft outside," he told her with an air of finality.

Alex knew that it would be pointless to try and argue with him now. Once Sherlock had his mind set on something, he wasn't going to back down. She sighed and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Do me a favour. Don't die," she joked weakly.

Sherlock patted her head and gave her a gentle nudge out of the door. He sighed. Now he knew that Alex was safe, he could concentrate. Normally, he wouldn't trust Mycroft with anything but despite their differences, they both knew that each would bend over backwards to look after their niece. His brother would probably be there in less than three seconds. Well, if not him, Anthea would have someone patrolling London in case a situation like this arose.

Sherlock turned on his heel to face Jeff. Time to play the game.

* * *

Alex was worried sick. She knew her Uncle could look after himself, oh yes. But sometimes he got a little bit too wrapped up in the game. A little too carried away. And that was when he was reckless.

She wandered through the halls, trying to ignore the churning feeling in her stomach.

_He will be fine_

_He will be fine_

_He will be fine_

She chanted over and over in her head.

She made her way to the car park near the main road as Sherlock had instructed and slid her hand into her pocket only to find it empty. She patted all of her pockets in her coat and her jeans. With horror, she realised that Jeff had already anticipated their plan and had took her phone away before they even left Baker Street.

Alex swallowed.

What was she going to do now? Panic mode activate. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

She blew out, she was a Holmes. She was cool, calm and collected.

She repeated the words in her head.

It was just beginning to sink in when she heard the gunshot.

Her heart dropped.

Her jaw went slack.

Her legs began to move.

Faster. Faster. Faster.

Until she was back in the classroom.

She whipped her head around the room, but there was no sign of Jeff or her Uncle.

"Sherlock?" she whispered.

"Uncle Sherlock?" she repeated with a tinge of desperation in her voice.

She walked around to the desk and her ears vaguely registered the sound of sirens outside but she was far more interested in what lay on the mahogany table top.

Two pill bottles. Empty.

She clapped a hand to her mouth.

He did it. He took it. He actually took it.

Her vision was clouded by bitter tears as she frantically scanned the floor for a body. There had to be at least one. And- oh God, what if he was dead? Actually, properly dead. Gone. Forever. Just like Mum.

Alex fell back onto the wall behind her and slid down. Tears trickled down her paper white cheeks and her black hair stuck to her face.

Sherlock. The person who helped her through everything since she was a child. The person who raised her as his own and taught her everything he knew. He was gone. And it was funny, she didn't feel sorry for herself, oh no. She just didn't want her Uncle to be on his own. He would be completely alone for the first time in eight years and she couldn't stand it.

It was in that moment that she realised why her mother was so desperate. She didn't need Mycroft or Sh-…Sherlock to explain it like she did when she was younger… because she was feeling it now. The never ending pain like someone had picked up a dagger and plunged it deep within her heart.

She knew what would make it stop. The buzzing had started again. Oh that buzz. It made her feel human; relieved that she could feel something else other than the agony. Her hands clenched and unclenched as she climbed up on to the window pane.

The breeze felt nice. Open. The light in the interminable dark.

Her body moved with expert precision and experience as she twisted and moulded to the shape of the building wall and swung up onto the roof.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she jumped between the buildings.

She glanced back only once to see a stretcher being wheeled out of the school, a white sheet (she would never forget that sheet) lain gracefully over someone who was most definitely dead. That was all the proof she needed.

One drop of pure grief fell from the corner of her eye. She watched as it slid off her palm and ran down the side of the slate of the roof into the darkness. That drop showed her what to do, as she bounded over the roves and chimney pots, unseen by anyone and disappeared into the night… just like the drop. She liked that drop. That drop showed her what to do. That drop made her feel safe. And it was with a sad smile that she named it Sherlock.

**Yeah... that just kind of... happened. **

**I really wasn't intending on it being so depressing honest, but well... Just to confirm, she hasn't committed suicide. Just refer back to the first chapter about Alex's past and you will see there.**

**I hope it was okay.**

**Please Review and I sincerely apologise to Alex for putting her through that. **

**See you in the next chapter, possibly tonight, most probably tomorrow!**

**-Abby**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: I am lost for words at the amount of people who have clicked on this story. If I could thank each of you personally, believe me I would. Special thank you today to:**

**bookaddict616**

**TheTidesAreGettingHigher**

**lovestheoxfordcomma**

**And an enormous thank you to Ariella (guest). Your review made me smile so much that I am pretty sure that I pulled a muscle... in my face. Is that possible? Anyway, thanks so much, you are the reason why this has been updated so soon. You guys are just the best!**

**Enjoy and drop a review at the end? It only takes five seconds and just makes my day. I am rambling okay- hope you like it:**

Sherlock was sat in the back of an ambulance with (much to his dismay) a vibrant orange blanket draped around his shoulders.

"Why have I got this blanket? They keep putting this blanket on me," Sherlock whined as Lestrade walked over to him.

"Yeah, it's for shock," he told him.

"I'm not in shock."

"Yeah, but some of the guys wanna take photographs. Where is Alex by the way?" Lestrade asked, suddenly aware of the lack of pressure around his waist that usually occurred when he was around her.

"She is with Mycroft. I sent her off so that she would be safe. She is fine," Sherlock informed him.

Lestrade blew out a relieved breath.

"So, the shooter. No sign?" Sherlock changed the subject.

"Cleared off before we got 'ere. But a guy like that would have had enemies, I suppose. One of them could have been following him but... got nothing to go on," he admitted.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Sherlock grinned.

"Okay, gimme," Lestrade rolled his eyes.

"The bullet they just dug out of the wall's from a hand gun. Kill shot over that distance from that kind of a weapon – that's a crack shot you're looking for, but not just a marksman; a fighter. His hands couldn't have shaken at all, so clearly he's acclimatised to violence. He didn't fire until I was in immediate danger, though, so strong moral principle. You're looking for a man probably with a history of military service and nerves of steel..." Sherlock trailed off looking at John who was stood innocently behind the police tape. His genius mind clicked.

"Actually, do you know what? Ignore me," Sherlock said forcefully.

"Sorry?" Lestrade asked in bewilderment.

"Ignore all of that. It's just the, err, the shock talking," Sherlock lied, beginning to walk towards John.

"Where're you going?" Lestrade shouted over to him.

"I just need to talk about the-the rent."

"But I've still got questions for you."

"Oh, what now? I'm in shock! Look, I've got a blanket!" Sherlock snapped in frustration, "And I just caught you a serial killer ... more or less."

Lestrade sighed, "Yes you did. Okay. We'll bring you in tomorrow. Off you go," he relented.

Sherlock walked over to John who was still stood calmly on his own.

"Um, Sergeant Donovan's just been explaining everything, the two pills. Been a dreadful business, hasn't it? Dreadful," John said as they began to walk together.

"Good shot," Sherlock praised him quietly.

"Yes. Yes, must have been, through that window," John said innocently.

"Well, you'd know."

John looked up at his new flatmate.

"Need to get the powder burns out of your fingers. I don't suppose you'd serve time for this, but let's avoid the court case," Sherlock told him.

John cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Are you all right?" Sherlock asked in concern.

"Yes, of course I'm all right," John reassured him.

"Well, you have just killed a man."

"But he wasn't a very nice man," John countered.

"No. No, he wasn't really, was he?" Sherlock agreed.

"Frankly, a bloody awful cabbie."

"That's true. He was a bad cabbie. Should have seen the route he took us to get here!" Sherlock complained and John burst out in giggles.

"Stop! Stop, we can't giggle, it's a crime scene! Stop it!" John protested, a large grin on his face.

"You're the one who shot him. Don't blame me."

"Keep your voice down!" John hissed as Donovan looked at them suspiciously, "Sorry – it's just, um, nerves, I think," he reassured her.

"Where is Alex by the way? She left the flat with you," John said suddenly concerned.

"Oh, she is fine. With a… well she is safe. She will be back before nine since it is a school night."

John looked at him with astonishment.

Sherlock caught his gaze,

"What?" he frowned.

"No… it is just… well one minute you are cold and detached, the next you are all fatherly with Alex. What is all that about?" John asked him.

Sherlock thought for a moment.

"I don't believe in sentiment or caring. It isn't an advantage. But Alex… she is the exception. I can't help but care for her and I think that is an advantage because I have something to keep me grounded and not 'dive straight into the blender' so to speak," Sherlock explained.

John nodded. They continued down the road until a long black car pulled up at the college gates and Mycroft Holmes walked over to them.

"So, another case cracked. How very public spirited ... though that's never really your motivation, is it?" he said to his brother.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked in annoyance.

"As ever, I'm concerned about you," Mycroft replied, not fazed by his brother's coldness.

"Yes, I've been hearing about your 'concern'."

"Always so aggressive. Did it never occur to you that you and I belong on the same side?" Mycroft asked in exasperation.

"Oddly enough, no!"

"We have more in common than you like to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish. People will suffer ... and you know how it always upset Alex and Mummy," Mycroft said.

"I upset them? Me? It wasn't me that upset them Mycroft!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"No, no, wait. Mummy? Who's Mummy?" John asked in utter confusion.

"Mother – our mother. This is my brother, Mycroft," Sherlock informed him with a hint of disgust on his face.

"Putting on weight again?" Sherlock taunted Mycroft.

"Losing it, in fact."

"He's your brother?!" John exclaimed, still not quite over the fact.

"Of course he's my brother."

"So he's not ..."

"Not what?"

"I dunno – criminal mastermind?"

Sherlock glared at Mycroft venomously as he said, "Close enough."

"For goodness' sake. I occupy a minor position in the British government," Mycroft smiled.

"He is the British government, when he's not too busy being the British Secret Service or the CIA on a freelance basis. Good evening, Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home. You know what it does for the traffic. Oh and tell Alex to be back by nine," Sherlock called as he walked away.

Mycroft looked at him in confusion.

"Alex?"

"Yes, Alex. Are you getting deaf in your old age?" Sherlock mocked.

"Tell her yourself," Mycroft said, still with a bewildered look on his face.

"Oh, have you dropped her off at the flat," Sherlock deduced and began to walk out again.

"Sherlock, I didn't pick her up… she is with you," Mycroft said slowly.

Sherlock froze.

"No she isn't, she is with you," Sherlock said just as slowly as he turned to face his brother.

"Sherlock… where is Alex?" Mycroft asked in false calm as panic gripped the both of them.

"I told her to go outside on to the path and to ring you so that you could pick her up so she wouldn't get hurt," Sherlock told him, his hand starting to shake.

"I never got a call," Mycroft said, fear etched into his features.

Just then, Lestrade walked over to them and handed Sherlock something.

"Alex will probably want it back, the cabbie had it in his pocket," he smiled and walked back over to his car.

Sherlock looked down at his hand and saw Alex's purple phone. He looked back to Mycroft with horror.

"She must have gone back in," he murmured.

Without a second glance, Sherlock, John and Mycroft barrelled back into the college and through to the classroom.

An ugly pool of blood soaked the carpet where Jeff had been killed.

"Alex!" Sherlock called out.

He was met with silence. Only the frantic beating of his own heart sounded in his ears.

Mycroft fell to his hands and knees and began tracing his niece's steps as Sherlock did the same for the other side of the room.

"Traces of her nail varnish here, Mycroft," Sherlock said, his voice wavering pointing to the spot that she had fell to the floor.

Mycroft ran over to where Sherlock was deducing and helped him.

"Cotton off her coat," he said, gesturing to the small piece of fabric hanging on a splinter sticking out of the wall.

It was John however who found the most important clue.

"Guys…" he started but neither was listening.

"One of her hairs on the carpet there."

"Scuff print off her shoe."

"Guys…" John started again.

"She could have been taken," Sherlock fretted completely ignoring John again.

"I will get files on everybody we have pissed off and cross reference them shall I? It will only take fifteen years," Mycroft muttered sarcastically.

"Guys…"

"I will get Anthea to check at airports for signs. She won't be able to be taken out of the country, that is a start," Mycroft said as Sherlock nodded seriously.

"GUYS, LISTEN! JESUS!" John bellowed.

Both heads snapped around to face him.

John pointed to the open window where a smaller version of Sherlock's grey trench coat fluttered in the breeze.

Sherlock and Mycroft looked at each other with horror.

"Not again."

Immediately, the two pulled out their phones.

"Anthea, code Red Balloon-"

"Lestrade, it has happened again-"

"Maximum surveillance-"

"Homeless network-"

"Get cameras on every tube and train station-"

"Mrs Hudson… Alex is staying at a friend's. If anyone asks, say that she is with me… um… bowling-"

They hung up their calls and sighed.

"Why does she keep doing this?" Mycroft muttered with his head in his hands.

Sherlock exhaled deeply and collapsed into one of the chairs.

"What has she done?" John asked.

"How much has my brother told you about Alex's mother?" Mycroft asked.

John shrugged, "Nothing really. I just know that you two are her uncles."

"When Alex was six, our sister M-Maybelline… she committed suicide. Alex found her," Mycroft muttered.

John put a hand to his face. _Poor girl_.

"Running away was and is her way of coping with things when things get too difficult. The question is why would she run now? What caused her to?" Sherlock spoke up.

He stood up and walked to the doorway.

"She would have come in here, probably looking for me," he muttered, "Walked in through here, saw the table, chairs, window…oh."

"Oh?" Mycroft perked up.

Sherlock followed his niece's line of sight and his hand rested on the two empty pill bottles on the desk.

"She thought I had taken the pill. She thought I was dead… Like her mother."

Mycroft and John groaned with despair.

_Alex must be going insane._

* * *

Alex knew that Mycroft would have the trains monitored so she took her chance on a bus. She asked to go as far as each would take her and then hop off and climb aboard a different one. As darkness fell, little Alex had reached Birmingham.

She gave a thank you to her last driver and gave him an extra pound for his troubles. She was suddenly aware, as she left the heated interior of the vehicle, just how cold it was and she couldn't help but berate herself for not noticing her lack of coat when she left the college.

Her breath blew billows of blinding smoke into the breeze and the tips of her fingers were already numb. Walking over to a nearby alleyway, Alex took some cardboard from an overflowing skip and moulded it around her body like she had done so many times before. The board gave some relief from the bitterness of the night, but frost still hung in the air and stung at her skin.

Alex closed her eyes and tried to think of something happy to get her to fall asleep.

_It was Christmas. She was eleven._

_She had gone to bed about ten o'clock and woke up at three (much to Sherlock's amusement). Mycroft arrived later on with his arms laden with presents that joined Sherlock's on the hearth. The dinner was great thanks to her grandmother _and the thought that really warmed Alex from the harsh wind was the last imageof Sherlock, Mycroft and her laid with their heads on each other's shoulders asleep, the faint crackle of a homely fire just audible in her grandmother's house.

Day two.

Oh God she was starving. Alex was like her uncle in the sense that she didn't eat as much as everybody else but she was due for her meal yesterday and missed it. She hadn't had anything for eight days now.

She had twenty pounds in her purse but if her previous experiences on the streets were anything to go by, she would need to keep hold of it.

To make matters worse, the heavens opened, sending torrents of ferocious rain clashing down the coatless, soaking girl. The alleyway that she was in provided no shelter whatsoever but if she left it, Mycroft's gang would see her on CCTV or the news of her disappearance would have spread through the homeless network from town to town. They all owed Sherlock favours and the only one he asked for in return was to keep Alex safe.

Oh what Alex wouldn't have given to have her Uncle Sherlock's thick grey coat and his scarf bundled around her neck. She sniffed and rubbed her red tipped nose on the back of her hand, mixing in the dirt that had accumulated around her face.

The day had passed uneventfully enough. She was far enough into the alley so that no one would pay any attention to her, but as night fell, it was a different story.

Alex's eyes were just fluttering closed, her limbs just drooping when a sudden jolt around her shoulder snapped her to consciousness with a yelp of pain. She couldn't see in the darkness, only the faint glow of a faraway street lamp illuminating the silhouette of a man. There was a strong aroma of alcohol choking her. He grabbed her bag but it was still around her neck. He pulled with enormous force and Alex cried out as the leather began to burn her skin.

"Stop it," she yelled, trying to pull her bag back.

The man retracted his grasp and before she knew it, a bony fist had connected with her jaw, sending her flying to the ground. The man unhooked the bag and took off into the street.

But Alex wasn't giving up that easily.

She looked to the nearest security camera. Every five seconds, it would capture the moment. Alex would have to be hidden as soon as it hit five.

She dashed out, following the man across the road.

1-2-3-4-

She dived behind a bin

5.

1-

She sprinted again, heading this time towards the small underground pedestrian tunnel that led under the road.

2-3-4-

Plant displays always are a blessing aren't they?

1-2

Alex followed the attacker down into the mouth of the tunnel, grinning at the fact that they were in a blind spot here and her attacker was beginning to slow down. That was what distracted her. As she reached the fourth step from the top, her foot slipped off the sodden concrete and she tumbled down the other fifteen, sprawled out in agony at the bottom.

Her blood boiled as she heard the man laughing as he got away.

She spun her head around.

No one was there to help her. As usual.

She slowly propped herself up on her grazed elbow to assess the damage. Her trouser leg was completely torn off and a large gash ran from her knee, right down her shin to her foot. Her ankle was twisted at an awkward angle. She reached out to prod it gently, only to hiss in pain.

Definitely sprained, possibly broken.

Her neck was only slightly scuffed but she knew her throbbing jaw would already be forming bruises as she had noticed her face beginning to swell. She tried to stop the tears brimming in her eyes as physical and emotional pain attacked her. All she wanted was Sherlock. Her Uncle Sherlock. Was that so much to ask?

Her bag had her purse and diary in it. Oh… she was so screwed.

Alex tried to pull herself up, whining in pain when it applied pressure to her tender ankle.

"Hey, are you okay there?" a voice asked.

Alex whipped around to face a man dressed in a black suit and polished shoes.

_Office Worker_.

He walked over to her and looked at her face.

"Whoa, someone really did a number on you," he said.

"Yeah," Alex muttered, trying to keep her head down as much as possible.

The man held out a slender hand,

"I'm Jim," he introduced in his Irish accent.

Never one to forget her manners, Alex held out her hand.

"Laura," she lied smoothly.

"Do you want some help? I could take you to the hospital or…?" Jim offered.

"No! I will be fine. No need for hospitals!" Alex answered a little too quickly.

"Not a fan of doctors then?" Jim quipped with a smile.

"Not exactly."

Jim kept his gentle smile as he reached into his briefcase and handed her a slightly squashed sausage roll.

"It was for my daughter but you look like you need it more," he said kindly.

"I can't-" she began to protest.

"No. Take it."

Alex sighed. Just the smell of it made her want to rip it out of his hands and wolf it down in one go.

He placed it into her palm and began to walk up the other end of the subway and out of view. Alex looked down at the food in her hand and delicately prized a flake of pastry and placed it gently on her tongue. She slowly let it melt, relishing in its taste.

Another flake

Another flake

Another flake

And all too soon, all that was left was the wrapper.

Alex was just grateful that her stomach was full. She supposed that it must have shrunk having not eaten in so long.

In fact, she felt quite sick. She supposed _that_ was from the damp... and the cold... and the driving rain... and the pain... and the trauma... and the memories... and that awful white blanket... and an image that her imagination had concocted for her of Sherlock, his lips tinged blue, his face pale and his wide lifeless eyes staring at her-

She screamed.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

She had made her decision. She couldn't stick it out here anymore. Not with Sherlock gone and no coat and no money and- no. No more lists. Lists only added to fuel to the fire. That was her first decision. Next, most importantly, she had decided that she had been out on the streets for long enough, even if it had only been three days.

What? You go back to when you were fourteen, lose the person you love like a father, spend nights and days in practically a filthy cardboard sleeping bag in the freezing cold with no coat, get beaten up by a mysterious man and then have all of your possessions nicked. Won't be calling her a lightweight then would you?

* * *

Alex hobbled painfully up the steps and limped over to a bench in full sight of the security camera. The part of the city was pretty remote and then bench was in a tiny park in the middle of the square so she wouldn't get much attention.

She glanced to the security camera.

1-2-3-4-5

Flash.

Mycroft would now know where she was and would be on the way to pick her up. And with that thought, she allowed herself to be fall asleep, her head resting on the cold metal arm of the bench.

* * *

Three days. Three bloody days. Sherlock Holmes was going mad.

Everybody was going mad.

The 'Alex search team' (Sherlock, Mycroft, John, Lestrade, Molly, Mrs Hudson and Anthea) had all assembled in the living room of 221B. Some were pacing (Sherlock and Mycroft) some were checking CCTV (Lestrade, John and Anthea) some were making everybody tea and trying not to cry (Mrs Hudson and Molly). It just showed how much Alex meant to all of them. They saw her as a daughter, niece, cousin, sister or granddaughter but they all loved her the same. Then of course there were Anderson, Donovan and a few of the others on the force that just laughed and said that it was only a matter of time until the freak's heir cracked. It took four people just to restrain Mycroft and Sherlock from batting the insensitive *cough*... moving on.

"Argh, where could she be?! She doesn't even have her coat!" Sherlock shouted.

"The weather is awful all over the country, she must be freezing," Mrs Hudson sniffled.

Mycroft was barely holding it together.

He was supposed to be in charge of Alex. He was the eldest; he should have had everything under control. What a mess. When they got her back, she was never leaving their sight again.

As it turned out, they were about to be getting her back sooner than they first thought.

"There!" John shouted, pointing to one of the laptop screens.

Huddled around the screen, they saw a girl fitting Alex's hair colour and height sitting on a bench.

"Can you zoom in on the face?" Sherlock asked frantically.

The camera focused in on Alex's face and there was a collective intake of breath at the state of her jaw line.

The Holmes boys saw red.

"I assume that someone will be taught a lesson soon, brother dear," Sherlock said through gritted teeth.

"Oh you can be sure of it," replied Mycroft with an equally murderous look on his face.

* * *

After many arguments and elections, it was decided that Sherlock, Mycroft and John were the ones that would retrieve Alex since they were her Uncles and John was a doctor and going by her face, she needed one.

Thanks to Mycroft's contacts, they were able to get to Birmingham in just over an hour and they followed Lestrade's directions until the found the bench with a sleeping Alex on it.

Sherlock almost cried in relief at seeing her face again and knew his brother was feeling the same.

They exchanged a glance and began to walk over to their niece. Mycroft kneeled down on eye level to her and gently shook her shoulder.

"Alex… come on wake up," he coaxed.

The girl blearily opened her eyes.

"Uncle Mycroft?" she asked, her voice heavy with sleep.

"Yes, my dear," he answered gently, "Someone else here too."

Alex frowned at him in confusion until she saw the long, grey coat of her Uncle Sherlock.

"No!" she cried as she tumbled onto the gravel in panic.

"Alex-"

"No! N-no. You are dead. I saw you dead. You killed yourself! You took the pill! You are dead!" she screamed, tears falling down her face as she backed up against the wrought iron fence behind her.

Sherlock knelt down next to her and pressed her hand to his cheek.

"I am alive, Alex. Completely alive. The body that you saw wasn't me. It was never me. I didn't take the pill. I am right here. I won't ever leave you like your Mum did," his deep voice reassured her.

Alex looked at him intently before she relaxed and slumped against the fence in exhaustion.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed.

Sherlock wiped her tears with the pad of his thumb.

"What for?" he asked with a smile, "Let's just get you home."

Sherlock threw his coat around her bare arms and allowed Alex to rest her head on his chest and he lifted her bridal style into his arms and turned to his brother.

"Can we use the same transport on the way back?"

Mycroft nodded and put a hand to Alex's head.

"Just go to sleep. We will look after you now," he soothed.

Sherlock nodded as he felt her head become heavier and her eyes close.

John walked back over from where he was giving the family some space.

"John, she is freezing," Sherlock said, worry clear in his voice.

"The coat will help and we will be in the warm soon. As for her injuries...um... nothing that needs immediate attention. I can stitch that leg up when we get back to Baker Street," he reported, inspecting the gash.

"Good. Mycroft, any news on the bastard who did this?" Sherlock asked angrily, nodding to the array or bruises blossoming over his beautiful niece's face.

"We have CCTV footage of a man running away with a bag identical to Alex. Let's just say that the type of police that he is about to meet won't care too much about human rights."

Sherlock smirked and repositioned Alex in his arms so that she was more comfortable, careful not to wake her.

"Let's go."

* * *

The journey back to Baker Street took slightly longer than the trip _from _it but Alex thankfully slept the whole way.

As Sherlock carried her through the living room door, all heads snapped to them and gasped at the sight of Alex's leg or face. Mutters of threats echoed around the room and the tension could have been cut with a knife. Sherlock brushed Alex's fringe out of her face.

Alex slowly woke up just as she was being carried into her room.

"Sherlock?" she mumbled.

"Hey, Mrs Hudson has got some pyjamas out for you. Slip into them and come on in the kitchen so John can fix your leg," Sherlock ordered, gently placing her down on the corner of her bed before leaving her to change in peace.

Alex rubbed at her eyes and relished in the fuzzy warmth that her sleepwear provided and thanking God that there was such a thing as central heating.

Just as she reached the door, she paused. She was home. It finally hit her. After all that had happened over the last few days, she was home. And Sherlock was alive. If she had told herself that she would be in this position right now yesterday, she would have told her that she was delusional.

Smiling to herself, she pressed down the handle and a hand shot out to steady her as she stumbled slightly on her ankle. She looked at who had caught her and saw Lestrade smiling down at her. She grinned back and allowed him to help her over to the kitchen table that had been cleared of experiments and was now laden with John's medical supplies.

"Hey Alex, glad someone has finally woken up," he chirped.

Alex laughed sheepishly and sat in the chair that had been pulled out for her.

"I am going to have to stitch your leg so you have to sit still," he told her as he fished around for a needle.

"Are you going to give me the whole 'this will hurt for only a second' speech?" Alex asked with a smirk.

John chuckled, "No, it seems like you already have that covered."

Mycroft and Sherlock smiled fondly at Alex who blushed at their attention (much to the amusement of the others in the room).

For the next half an hour, John prodded and poked and stitched and iced until Alex felt like she was a pin cushion. It had turned out that her ankle was only badly sprained and only needed a bandage. Her neck was rubbed with ice and had a gauze applied, ice again and steri-strips for her face.

"I think you might be done now," John concluded brightly.

Alex smiled tiredly and stifled a yawn.

"You can't seriously still be tired? You have slept for hours!" Sherlock asked incredulously.

"Not everyone is a machine like you Sher."

He snickered.

Molly went with Alex to make sure that she got into bed okay.

"You gave us a right scare there," Molly said as Alex climbed under the covers.

"I know, I am so sorry. I just thought that Sherlock was… then it reminded me of… and I just couldn't…" Alex looked down guiltily.

Sometimes she hated herself so much.

"Don't worry about it," Molly reassured her, but Alex was sure that her honorary Aunt was lying.

_Of course they are angry with you,_ a wicked voice spoke inside her head, _you put them through hell _again_, what did you expect?_

Alex sighed as Molly kissed her cheek and left the room.

Lestrade was next in.

"Hey kiddo. How are you feeling?" he asked kindly, using his pet name for her.

"Fine," she lied.

He gave her a look.

"Just tired," she relented.

"Then go to sleep you numpty," he said good-naturedly as he ruffled her hair.

"Glad you're back safe," he murmured softly before leaving.

Alex gave a sad smile and threw her head back into the pillows.

"'Night Kid," Anthea said from the doorway, "Oh and don't open the window, it has an alarm on now that will give your Uncle a shock every time you open it."

Alex shrugged; she guessed that she deserved it. She was pretty sure that there would also be a padlock that Sherlock would have swallowed the key for.

"Goodnight Anthea."

The woman gave her a smile and turned on her heel.

Mrs Hudson had left earlier on and had bid her goodnight then.

Whose turn was it now? She wondered. She saw the umbrella first.

"Hey Uncle Mycroft."

"Hello dear."

Mycroft walked over and perched himself on the side of the bed and flattened down Alex's hair.

"You terrified us Alex," he said quietly.

"I am so sorry Uncle, really, truly sorry," Alex apologised ashamed of herself.

He stared at her,

"You look so much like your mother and Sherlock," he commented.

Alex noticed that he hadn't forgiven her but let it slide.

"Thanks."

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear,

"But you posses my intellect."

Alex giggled as he pressed a kiss to her forehead and walked out of the room.

John gave her a wave before proceeding to his own room and Sherlock came in to Alex's, pulled out the chair from under her desk and sat by her bedside.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Staying with you. You haven't had a danger night in a while so you are due one tonight and judging by the bags under your eyes, you didn't sleep when you were on the streets either," he replied.

"You don't have to do that," she mumbled sleepily.

"I know," he replied just as softly.

"Love you Uncle Sherlo-" Alex was already asleep.

"Love you too Alex."

He leaned back and just watched the comforting rise and fall of his niece's chest. He was just immensely glad that she was home safely. The shouting could wait until tomorrow. No matter what people said about Sherlock Holmes, he wasn't _that _cruel.

**So what do you think? At least Alex is home now and she won't be running away again in the near future, I can assure you!**

**Please review!**

**-Abby**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: I have decided to update chapters slightly shorter now, in favour of getting them uploaded every night/every other night. If you think this is a bad idea, please don't be afraid to tell me so :). So... that time again, massive thank you to-**

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_Invisible hands bound her to the floor, her small six year old body paralysed with fear. Shouting and screaming and bellowing and hollering echoed around her head, crashing off the walls of her pounding skull. Shadows whipped around in front of her, so fast that they were a blur of pure terror flashing before her eyes. Alex's black pigtails slapped her cheeks as she spun her head around to try and pinpoint the silhouettes but it was in vain. They cackled at her mockingly._

_"Does Little Orphan Alex want to see the nasty monsters?" one of them mocked in a high pitched, simpering voice. _

_"Oh, I think she does. Do you want to play with us Alessandra? Do you want to play a game?" it asked. It was definitely male and had some kind of accent but in her frightened state, Alex couldn't pinpoint it. It sounded vaguely familiar._

_"Come on, Alessandra. Play with us! Play with us! Play with us!"_

_Alex gripped at her head in attempt to block out the voices. _

_An icy hand grasped at her wrist._

_"It is not nice to ignore people Alex. Not nice at all. Didn't your uncles ever tell you that?" he jeered. _

_"Come on Alex, I only want to play a game."_

_A sudden bright light flashed and Alex fell to the floor._

_She frowned as what she landed on wasn't the carpet she expected, but hard gravel. She winced as the stones hacked into her palm. Sirens blared around her and the whole world was a haze of blazing blue lights._

_Alex could hear something like the whirring of wheels on smooth floor and she turned around to face the source of the noise. Behind her stood a large building with many cloudy windows and painted doors. 'Roland-Kerr Further Education College' stood in peeling letters on a small glass cased notice board near the entrance._

_The sound was getting closer. Squeaking closer. Rolling closer. _

_The stretcher burst through the door and was rushed to the ambulance. Everything seemed to go in slow motion. The white sheet fluttered gently in the breeze and the whole scene was neatly poetic and serenely morbid. One pale, slender hand fell from the bed and hung of the side. That hand didn't belong to Jeff._

_"No. Jeff… that's not Jeff! It has to be Jeff! That is… Sherlock. No! I am dreaming, Sherlock is alive, I remember him saying goodnight. This is all just some stupid nightmare!" Alex yelled, her voice still that of a six year old. _

_"They lied. He is dead Alessandra, don't believe them," the voice hissed._

_"No!" _

_Tears sprung to her eyes as she saw John walk over to the body and peel back the sheet. The face was bruised and bloody… and most definitely Sherlock's._

_Alex screamed in anguish and began to fall backwards, but she didn't hit the floor, she just kept falling and falling, the world rushing past her in a dizzying haze. Flashes of her life sprung before her eyes, _

_7__th__ Birthday party_

_Her running off with Mycroft's umbrella_

_Four year old her wearing Sherlock's coat, three quarters of it pooling around her on the floor_

_Swimming lessons in Primary School_

_The bullies in Comprehensive_

_Yesterday as she lay broken on the pavement_

_The whole world laughing and jeering_

_Her mother… sighing at her child… before standing back to admire her work. Double fisherman's knot. Alex looked on with her innocent wide eyes. Her mother stepped up onto the steps. One step. Two steps. Top step. Her hands grazed the rope and sending her daughter a broken hearted glance she advanced forward-_

_Alex begged for them to stop. She couldn't see it again. She cried and screamed as she carried on free falling._

_"Play the Game. Play the Game. Play the Game. Play the Game," the voice laughed._

_"Shut up!" she screeched._

_"Play the Game. Play the Game. Play the Game. Play the Game-"_

Alex shrieked as she sat bolt right up in her bed. The hands. They were there again. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe.

"Alex!" Sherlock's deep voice startled her back to reality.

She looked over to him and found the duvet was the only thing holding her down. No hands. She sighed. It really had just been a dream.

"Are you okay now?" Sherlock asked in concern as he placed a cool hand on her shoulder.

Alex tried to focus on his face through her tears, but the lines and colours just seemed to blend into each other through the water in her eye.

She flung herself forward and latched on to Sherlock. He rubbed her back and muttered garbled nonsense to help her calm down. She wiped her eyes furiously and laid back down into her pillows.

"What was all that about eh?" Sherlock asked gently.

"You… Mum," Alex whispered.

Sherlock gave her a sympathetic smile, his eyes dancing with sadness. He hated that Alex had to go through that.

"Do you want to get some tea?" he suggested.

Deciding that she wasn't going to get to sleep any time soon, she took Sherlock's offered hand and allowed him to help her plod to the kitchen. A steaming mug of tea was placed under her chin and she sent her Uncle a grateful smile as he watched her closely from his spot opposite her.

"Do you want to play a game?" Sherlock asked.

Alex stiffened. The voice. That was what the voice said.

"Alex? Do you want to play that game that you always pestered me to play when you were younger? The one where you have to say a random word and the other has to say the first thing they associate with that word?"

She relaxed. It was only a bloody stupid nightmare.

"Yeah, okay. You go first," she said.

"Um… Stupidity," Sherlock said.

"Anderson," she replied quickly.

"Thick."

"Custard," she said.

"Lestrade."

"What?" Alex laughed.

"Well, they both end in the same sound," Sherlock defended, but he was just grateful that Alex had taken her mind off her nightmare.

"Okay… Banana," Alex started off.

"Apple."

"Strudel."

"Lestrade."

"Sherlock, how the hell does strudel make you think of Lestrade?" Alex asked incredulously.

"Lestrudel. Lestrudel and Custard."

Alex giggled uncontrollably.

"That. Has. To. Be. His. New. Name," she wheezed, clutching her ribs.

Sherlock grinned. _I bet Mycroft couldn't make her laugh like that_, he thought smugly.

The rest of the early hours of the morning carried on pretty much the same.

Lesandwich

Lestarsign

Lestrap

Lestraw

You get the idea.

John had appeared halfway through their game, woken up by the hysterical laughter emitting from the kitchen.

"What the hell are you guys doing?" he muttered sleepily.

"Le… Le… Lestrangle!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"It sounds like you are sneezing!" Alex wailed with glee.

John shook his head at the pair and began to make breakfast.

"There you go, pancakes," John served to both of them, "With Lestrawberries."

This sent another peal of laughter as Alex, John and (surprisingly) Sherlock began to eat their breakfast.

"Whoa, you are actually eating, is it Wednesday?" Alex asked sarcastically.

Sherlock made a face at her.

"What, you only eat once a week?" John asked warily.

"The body is only transport. Digestion slows me down too much."

Alex rolled her eyes. She had heard that phrase so many times before that it was actually painful.

"You can take this week off school by the way, Mycroft sorted it," Sherlock mentioned to Alex.

She punched the air.

"Get in! I am going to get ready, are either of you coming to the shops with me?" she asked as she hobbled over to put her plate in the sink.

"I will," John offered.

She gave him a smile and flounced off to have a shower.

As soon as she left, the bright smile that was on Sherlock's face disappeared.

"John, get a paper while you are out. And probably some tea bags as well," he said in his cool voice, all warmth that it had gained from Alex completely gone.

John stared at him. It was disconcerting how quickly his friend's mood could change.

"Right, well. I will be off then," John said uncomfortably.

Sherlock didn't respond, he just slipped his fingers under his chin and entered his mind palace.

John scoffed in disbelief and proceeded to help Alex down the stairs. Her ankle felt better after sleeping and she hoped that it would be back to normal by the end of the week.

* * *

"What do you need then?" John asked, looking for an excuse to start a conversation.

"Oh just this and that," she said evasively, her fingers curled tightly around her phone.

John nodded as they entered the supermarket.

"I will meet up with you in about ten minutes," Alex told him.

He looked hesitant to let go of her arm.

"John, I am hardly going to do it again am I?"

She made her puppy dog eyes for good measure. John relented.

"Ten minutes, no later," he said sternly.

Alex nodded seriously and broke out into a grin as soon as his back was turned. She pulled out her phone.

**I am in the bread isle- AH**

There was no reply.

**Logan? –AH**

Alex frowned. Logan always answered her texts.

Suddenly, she felt arms wrap around her shoulders and hands cover her eyes.

"Guess who it is?" they said.

"Logan!" Alex laughed and turned around to face her best friend.

"Where the hell have you been? I have been texting you like crazy!" he gushed.

Logan and Alex had been best friends since they could remember.

It had started when Maybelline had pitched Alex up at nursery with _other _children. That had been a mistake. They were all about Barbie and dollies and dinosaurs and all she wanted to do was plot the perfect murder (blame Sherlock for that one). The only other child who would talk to her was Logan. He wanted to know exactly how she would do it and he even managed to give details on the other children and teacher's routines so that they could plan everything down to the smallest detail. They knew who would be alone at what time, how to sneak the weapon passed the teachers and how to dispose of the body. Did I mention that they were only three?

"Sorry there was a… incident thing… yeah…" Alex trailed off looking down at her bandaged foot.

"It happened again didn't it?" Logan guessed sadly.

Alex nodded.

"What caused it this time?" he prodded gently.

"I don't want to talk about it," she muttered.

Logan nodded looking sober but almost immediately brightened up,

"Shall I stop by yours later on?" he suggested.

"Hell yeah!" Alex beamed.

"Usual entrance?"

"Of course," Alex grinned.

"Right, mother at six o'clock, got to dash, see you!" he called over his shoulder.

Alex gave him her two fingered wave and made her way back over to John who seemed to be walking out of the door… without the shopping.

"John!" she shouted.

He slowed down to allow her to catch up. He had a murderous look on his face and Alex's heart sank.

"What's happened?" she asked mournfully.

"Bloody chip 'n' pin!" he exploded.

Alex bit her lip and tried not to smile.

"Oh, let it out," John sighed.

Alex howled with laughter as John continued to brood while they made their way back to Baker Street. Inside the flat, they found Sherlock sitting reading a book innocently. A little too innocently for Alex's liking.

"You took your time," he said, his eyes still glued to the book.

"Yeah, we didn't get the shopping," John mumbled.

"What? Why not?"

"Because I had a row, in the shop, with a chip-and-PIN machine."

Alex stifled her smile.

"You ... you had a row with a machine?" Sherlock qualified as he lowered his book slightly.

"Sort of. It sat there and I shouted abuse. Have you got cash?" John asked.

"Take my card," Sherlock told him with an amused smile, nodding towards the kitchen.

As soon as John's back was turned, Alex turned to her Uncle with a raised eyebrow.

"What," he mouthed.

"What have _you_ been doing?" she mouthed back.

"You could always go yourself, you know. You've been sitting there all morning. You've not even moved since I left," John interrupted their silent conversation, "And what happened about that case you were offered – the Jaria Diamond?"

"Oh, not interested," Sherlock shrugged.

John went back to rummaging through Sherlock's wallet while Alex gave an amused smirk.

Sherlock sent her a questioning look when she came over and whispered into his ear,

"I would hide the machete better next time if I were you, Uncle dear."

Sherlock slammed his book shut and kicked the hilt with his heel so that it slid further under the chair.

Alex just shook her head and picked up her phone.

**Hey Logan- AH**

His reply was instant.

**Yo bro, woz gannin' on lyk m8- LB**

***raised eyebrow*- AH**

**Sorry, couldn't resist! What are you up to?- LB**

**Oh just sitting at home. Can't really move around too much with my leg so I am stuck watching The Jeremy Kyle Show, woo! -AH**

**That sounds almost as thrilling as my new job as a clothes rail. My mum just keeps throwing garments at me that I have to hold while she tried them on. I am slowly starting to consider plan 234 in the murder journal- LB**

Alex bit her cheek to stop herself from laughing. Oh the 'murder journal'. When the pair were children and plotting everyone's demise as I have already mentioned, they wrote down the different schemes and put them into an enormous note book with the ominous words 'MURDER JOURNAL' tattooed in four year old writing across the top.

**Yeah, but where are you going to get a budgie in Dorothy Perkins?- AH**

**Okay, plan 165?- LB**

**Do you really think that you can pick a lock that quickly on your own?- AH**

**Oh, I know, 34! LB**

**There is no way that you would be able to hold your breath for that long. That plan was made for the scuba diving trip.- AH**

**Fine, I will have to endure it… for now- LB**

Alex smiled and snapped her phone shut, sparing a thought for her clothes laden friend. She was just starting to get comfortable when Sherlock announced,

"I need to go to the bank. Alex, up for it?"

"Count me in," Alex replied, pulling herself up from the chair.

John rolled his eyes and clambered out of the door as Alex and Sherlock flung on their coats.

The street was heaving with activity as usual as they approached Shad Sanderson Bank. The foyer was impressive to say the least and John and Alex couldn't help but marvel as they climbed up the escalator.

"Yes, when you said that we were going to the bank…" said John.

Sherlock just carried on his brisk pace and approached the reception desk.

"Sherlock Holmes," he told the woman.

The trio were then shown to a room by a secretary where a man sat behind his desk. He rose as they entered and shook hands with Sherlock.

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Sebastian."

"Howdy, buddy. How long's it been? Eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?" Sebastian asked with a grin.

Sherlock looked back at him with dislike and Alex could feel the temperature drop in the room.

_Bad history there then…_

Sebastian looked towards her.

"Don't say that she's yours?" he said incredulously.

"She is my niece," Sherlock glared, and Alex's own dislike for the man was increasing by the second.

"Of course. Silly of me to think of _you _as a father! And who is this?" he asked, nodding towards John.

Alex saw a flash of pain cross Sherlock's face at Sebastian's words and Alex leaned her head on his arm.

"This is my friend, Doctor John Watson," he introduced.

"Friend?!" Sebastian exclaimed.

"Colleague," John corrected as they shook hands.

"Right," Sebastian said, peering at John curiously, "Right."

He looked at Sherlock as if to say, _you actually have a friend_.

Alex mentally counted to ten to stop herself from lashing out. She notice John also pursing his lips in distaste but she was slightly angry at him for correcting Sherlock. They _were_ friends weren't they?

"Well, grab a pew. D'you need anything? Coffee, water, juice?"

"No thanks," Alex said through gritted teeth at his annoyingly patronizing gaze.

"No? We're all sorted here, thanks," he told the secretary.

She nodded and left the room as Sebastian threw himself into his chair.

"So, you're doing well. You've been abroad a lot," Sherlock commented.

"Well, some," Sebastian admitted.

"Flying all the way round the world twice in a month?"

Alex caught on to his deductions and grinned into her hand.

Sebastian just pointed and laughed at Sherlock as John frowned.

"Enlighten us, what do you find so amusing?" Alex said, already exasperated with the man."

"Right. You're doing that thing," Sebastian turned to Alex, "We were at university together. Your _Uncle_ here had a trick he used to do."

Right, that was it-

"Yes, as you already know, I am his niece so it is highly unlikely that I (in my fourteen years of knowing Sherlock) have never seen him do his deductions. Notice how I said _deductions_ not party tricks. And he obviously knows you from university; he wouldn't willingly hang around with someone like you if he could avoid it, I can practically feel my IQ dropping."

"But-"

"Yes, I know what you are about to say 'but he is hanging around with me now!' the only reason is that you have a case for us. Before you can interrupt, of course you have a case for us, you two clearly can't stand each other so you wouldn't have called of you didn't need help. Now shut up, get on with it, and stop wasting my time!" Alex snapped.

Sebastian looked wide eyed at her,

"Well… you can definitely tell that she is related to you," he replied snobbishly.

"Thanks for the compliment," Alex snipped back.

Sherlock gave her a proud smirk. Oh, that girl was fantastic when she was angry.

"Right- um- anyway. You are right Miss Holmes, we have had a break in," Sebastian recovered and led them over through the trading floor and through to another room, "Rather weird."

**Was that okay?**

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**-Abby**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any other characters you may recognise. I only own Alex and Logan :)**

**AN: Hello again, sorry about not updating yesterday but I am home ill from school so I am not in the best of shapes. I decided after so much angst and misery in the previous chapters, that this one should be a bit lighter. **

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**Onwards!**

Previously-

_Sherlock gave her a proud smirk. Oh, that girl was fantastic when she was angry. _

_"Right- um- anyway. You are right Miss Holmes, we have had a break in," Sebastian recovered and led them over through the trading floor and through to another room._

"Sir William's office – the bank's former Chairman. The room's been left here like a sort of memorial. Someone broke in late last night," Sebastian informed them.

"What did they steal?" John asked.

"Nothing. Just left a little message."

Sebastian held his security card against the reader on the door and it clicked open. Hanging on the plain, dull white wall behind a large wooden desk, stood a framed painted portrait of a man in a suit, probably sir William, Alex deduced. On the wall to the left of the portrait someone had sprayed graffiti in fluorescent yellow paint. The paint looked vaguely like a number 8 and across from the graffiti, on the eyes of the man in the portrait an almost horizontal straight line had been sprayed. Thin lines of yellow streaked down from it as the paint had dripped. Sebastian led the way towards the desk. He stepped graciously aside to allow Sherlock and Alex a clear view of the wall.

Alex decided that it was time to test her almost-there-but-not-quite-photographic-memory. One of the things that used to drive Sherlock up the wall was Alex's really quite appalling memory. He had been trying to get her to build a mind palace of her own so that she would remember things and have them neatly stored away, but every time that he sat her down and tried to get her to concentrate, she would just lose patience and growl in frustration before listening to heavy metal music on her phone to calm herself down. What? She had her quirks.

Alex was then led through to a computer desk where the footage from the previous night's break in had been recorded.

"Sixty seconds apart," Sebastian told them, flicking between 23:34:01 which showed the paint on the wall and on the portrait, and a minute earlier – 23:33:01 – when the wall and portrait were still clean.

"How many ways into that office?" Sherlock asked instantly.

"Well, that's where this gets really interesting."

They were then taken to the reception area and Alex leaned over yet another computer screen.

"Every door that opens in this bank, it gets logged right here. Every walk-in cupboard, every toilet," the banker said.

"That door didn't open last night," Sherlock clarified.

"There's a hole in our security. Find it and we'll pay you – five figures. This is an advance. Tell me how he got in, there's a bigger one on its way," Sebastian said, reaching into his inside breast pocket and pulling out a cheque.

Alex rolled her eyes, of course it would come down to money.

"I don't _need_ an incentive, Sebastian," Sherlock almost hissed as he put a firm hand on Alex's shoulder and steered her back to the room with the 'message'.

John watched them go and turned back to Sebastian.

"He's, uh, he's kidding you, obviously. Sh-shall I look after that for him?" John asked hopefully, holding out his hand.

Sebastian gave him a look but placed the cheque in his grasp nonetheless. John looked at it in shock as he felt his heart skip a beat. Well… no more '_smart price'_ beans, Heinz, watch out for Watson!

* * *

Alex was back in the room and was staring intently at the graffiti. Sherlock watched his pupil carefully.

"Think Alex, what is this?" Sherlock asked.

"Art? No it can't be art, it is just a few lines and why would someone put it in a bank of all places? A protest?" Alex asked hopefully.

"Why can't it be a protest Alex?" Sherlock sighed.

"I don't know!" Alex groaned.

"Alex…" Sherlock warned.

"Fine. Okay, if it was a protest, and they were good enough to dodge around security like the person who did this, they would do it to more extremes than just vandalising a wall," Alex muttered.

"Good," Sherlock approved, "So what is the only other option?"

"I am guessing boredom isn't it? 'Cause right now, I feel like vandalising a wall," she murmured.

"Are you purposely trying to annoy me Alessandra because let me tell you now, you are succeeding!" Sherlock reprimanded.

Ouch- full name.

"Sorry, so the only option could be that it was left as a warning to someone."

Sherlock nodded.

"And how do we find out who it is for?" he prompted.

"Uh… I am sorry, I really don't know this time," Alex admitted.

Sherlock walked over to his niece and put his hands on her shoulders. He turned her around so that she was facing away from him and towards the desks in the room.

"Look around. What do you see?"

Alex did as she was told, she had already used up her cheek leeway earlier,

"Desks, chairs, windows, people, calendars, clocks, pillars-" she immediately stopped, "It is the pillars!"

Sherlock smiled proudly and allowed her to face him again.

"And how did you know that?"

"Because you had your hand on my shoulders and when I said pillars, your right hand constricted meaning that you were holding back information," she replied with a smug smile.

_Derren Brown is a God._

"You cheating minx," Sherlock muttered, ruffling her hair.

"It is genetic," she smiled as they both darted around the room. They almost danced and Alex had to admit that she was having a wale of time (even if her ankle was starting to dully ache). First, she had to find out who would be able to see the graffiti from their desk, so she took the left side and Sherlock took the right. She narrowed it down to a few possible desks. How was she able to work it out from there? She sneaked a look at Sherlock. He looked down at an imaginary watch on his wrist and grinned when he saw recognition pass over his niece's face.

"So who could the message only be for?" Sherlock asked her as they met in the middle.

Alex slipped a nametag out of its holder on the desk in front of her and read it out.

"Edward Van-Coon," she concluded.

Sherlock gave her a satisfied smile and put the nametag in his long grey coat.

"Come on."

* * *

After the imperative task of rescuing John from Sebastian, the trio made their way back down the escalator.

"Two trips around the world this month. You didn't ask his secretary; you said that just to irritate him," John said casually.

Sherlock smiled but neglected to comment.

"How _did_ you know?"

"Did you see his watch?"

"His _watch_?"

"The time was right but the date was wrong. Said two days ago. Crossed the dateline twice but he didn't alter it," Sherlock replied with a smug smile.

"Within a month? How'd you get that part?"

Sherlock gave Alex a look.

"New Breitling. Only came out this February," she said.

"Okay. So do you think we should sniff around here for a bit longer?" John suggested.

"Got everything we need to know already, thanks. And we got some lesson time in eh Alex?" Sherlock said.

Alex rolled her eyes. Of course she couldn't have a normal relationship with her uncle, he had to go and make her his pupil. Honestly…

"That graffiti was a message for someone at the bank working on the trading floors. We find the intended recipient and ..." Sherlock began, waving his hand expectantly for Alex to finish.

"…they'll lead us to the person who sent it," Alex droned dully.

"Well, there's three hundred people up there. Who was it meant for?" John asked.

"Pillars," Alex said simply.

"Pillars and the screens. Very few places you can see that graffiti from. That narrows the field considerably. And of course the message was left at eleven thirty-four last night. That tells us a lot," Sherlock continued.

"Does it?" John questioned as they exited through the revolving doors.

"Traders come to work at all hours. Some trade with Hong Kong in the middle of the night. That message was intended for someone who came in at midnight. Not many Van Coons in the phonebook. Ah, taxi. Alex, Mycroft wants you to have tea with him, the French Prime Minister called in sick from their meeting so Anthea will pick you up at Baker Street, bye!" Sherlock shouted over his shoulder as he and John barrelled into the taxi.

"How did you-?" her phone buzzed-

**Hello dear, French Prime Minister has so inopportunely fallen ill. Are you free for Anthea to swing by and pick you up?-MH**

Alex laughed.

**Mycroft, you know that I am free; you have at least seven security cameras on me and tell whoever is operating the third one to the left to either zoom out or move the damn thing up so that he is actually looking at my face- AH**

**He shall be dealt with my dear and Anthea is fifteen minutes away. Must dash, see you soon- MH**

Alex felt slightly guilty of the fact that someone would be out of a job in the next five minutes but to be honest, it was a bit creepy. She was fourteen, soon to be fifteen for goodness sake!

Alex settled herself on the curb to wait and pulled out her phone to text Logan.

**Hey Lo', how is school going?-AH**

His reply was slightly delayed.

**Sorry 'bout that, I sit at the front in Maths so Mrs Clarkson is watching every move I make. I am currently texting you from my pencil case- LB**

**Is Mrs Clarkson the prison guard with the enormous eyebrows?-AH**

**That's the one. Anyway I heard that you have got the rest of the week off you lucky sod! The cheek of it, off solving crimes while I rip out my hair doing trigonometric equations!-LB**

**Haha. Think of something happy. Picture this: we have skipped lessons and meet up at the water cooler. We take out the security cameras and scoot under the windows so as not to be seen. We then climb through the hole in the mesh fence at the bottom of the field and run free. The wind is cool and refreshing as we sprint, laughing leisurely. We reach the long grass and we slip off our shoes and feel the plants and dirt between our toes. The scene is beautiful, clear blue skies, the sun a haze over the hill but then we hear a scream. We turn on our heels to the voice that is screeching at the top of their lungs four words. Murder in the classroom. I take out my phone to ring Sherlock but he doesn't answer and it is up to us to find out who did it. Logan and Alessandra, partners in crime- AH**

Alex smiled at her little scene, imagining how perfect it would be if that happened. Just her and Logan alone, the sun illuminating his perfect features as he leans in-

Whoa! Where the hell did that come from?! Alex's breathing increased. _Bloody hell._

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Logan and her always had been and always would be friends. Best friends. Not… boyfriend and girlfriend. Alex shuddered as a message came in from Logan.

**Well, that would be the best day ever! Could we pay someone to arrange that. Assassins going cheap down Coundon Market ;)- LB**

She slammed down the lid on her phone before she could reply and blow their whole friendship. This _had _to be kept secret. Anyway, it was probably just a faze. That was what she reassured herself with as the sleek black car bearing Anthea pulled up. Alex got in and sat opposite her.

"Hello Anthea," Alex greeted.

"Hey kid, what's up with you?" she asked peering at Alex's flushed face.

Alex panicked.

"Oh nothing… it is cold out there you know. I mean warm. I mean very hot. I mean cold, uh I fell over. You know me, klutz! Yeah, just embarrassed, yep, definitely," Alex rambled. She inwardly cringed. What the _hell _was that sentence!?

Anthea gave her an amused look as they drove to her Uncle's house.

"So, who is the kid?" she smirked.

"What kid?" Alex tried the innocence is ignorance plan.

"The one that you have been texting and the reason that your face resembles a tomato on steroids. It can't be Logan because… you are blushing. It is Logan! Oh that's so sweet! Aw, you grew up together," Anthea cooed, enjoying making Alex uncomfortable.

"Shut up Anthea, Jesus. If my Uncles found out, I might as well tell Logan to leave for India!" Alex hissed.

"Australia would be further," she commented casually.

"Please don't mention it," Alex begged.

Anthea tore her gaze away from her blackberry and looked at her honorary sister.

"Fine… but let me give you some advice, Mycroft and Sherlock are geniuses, they will figure it out. So, you need to meet up with Logan and discuss battle plans, but without your Uncles getting suspicious. How about a camping trip?" Anthea suggested.

"Anthea, what the actual hell are you talking about?"

"I can fake a letter to your school telling them that they have won a free camping trip, for years nine, ten and eleven. The school will obviously jump at the chance and Sherlock will let you go. You then partner up with Logan so that you have the same tent (which you two would normally do anyway) and talk tactics," Anthea finished with a proud smile.

Alex hesitated.

"Anthea, great plan and everything, but there is a slight problem," she began.

Anthea looked at her curiously.

"Logan… doesn't exactly know that I have feelings for him," she admitted quietly.

Anthea then did something very unexpected. She packed up her blackberry into her pocket and took Alex's shoulders.

"Look kid, I have seen the way Logan looks at you at your birthday parties and when you drag him to Mycroft's. He feels the same way about you. And don't worry, your Uncles haven't noticed. It is more of a girl thing," Anthea smiled.

Alex felt hope rise in her chest. Seriously? Logan and her? Could they work?

"What do I tell him though?"

"I am afraid I can't tell you that," Anthea said with a shake of her head.

"Why ever not?" Alex asked in confusion.

"Because we have just arrived and Mycroft will surely get suspicious if we are sat in here talking for more than ten minutes," Anthea laughed.

Alex looked out of the window and sighed. They had of course reached Mycroft's mansion, oh sorry I mean house. She walked across the gravel drive, the stones crunching beneath her feet as she was met with Gavinson, one of the staff.

"Hello, Uncle Mycroft invited me," Alex said politely.

Gavinson (as usual) stayed silent and moved away from the door to allow Alex to enter into the hallway. Knowing this place like the back of her hand, she sauntered down to her Uncle's study and knocked.

"Come in, dear," Mycroft called.

Alex pushed open the door and walked over to the table next to the fire, where to tea cups and a teapot stood.

"Hey Uncle Mycroft," she greeted, giving him a brief hug.

"Hello Alex, how are you today?" he asked as they sat down to drink their extremely British tea.

"I am good thanks, ankle is aching a little but it is damn sight-"

Mycroft cleared his throat.

"It is a _lot_ better than before," she corrected as she rolled her eyes.

"I see that living with Sherlock has had an impact on your language," Mycroft commented.

"Oh lighten up Croft!" Alex teased.

Her Uncle just shook his head fondly.

"You, my dear, are a one off," he muttered.

She gave him her best cheesy grin and laughed.

Mycroft took this time to look at her face. The bruises were fading and the cuts were healing nicely. Her neck must still be bothering her slightly because her head is slightly cocked to the side. Anthea interrupted his deductions when she addressed him.

"Sir, Miss Chatterjee will not be returning to work for another two weeks, so Mr Harvard will have to take care of the Novel Case paperwork," she informed him.

"Oh… why is Miss Chatterjee unable to come in?" Mycroft asked curiously.

"Honeymoon sir, she got married yesterday. She is officially now Mrs Dobbs."

"Marriage, how tedious," he sighed.

Anthea looked at Alex with a sibling-like evil smirk.

"So when are you thinking of marriage, Alex?" she asked innocently.

Mycroft choked on his tea.

"Uh… not for a long time yet," she reassured Mycroft.

"Oh, I can't wait for the day that you change your last name from Holmes. What do you think you will be called then? Alex Bowen? Alex Barrington? Alex B-"

Mycroft looked positively murderous. Changing her name from Holmes? Preposterous!

"Very early to be thinking of that!" Alex cut her off. She was sure that the next name would be Baxter, Logan's second name. Jesus, she only found out today and she could already hear wedding bells!

Anthea nodded and retreated out of the room but not before,

"Might be too early for marriage, but perfect time for a boyfriend!" she threw over her shoulder and shut the doors.

Alex glared daggers- no, machetes at the door. Oh Anthea was going to get it! Alex cringed as she turned back to her Uncle and saw him staring intently at her, his knuckles white around the china cup.

"So… Alex. Have you got a…" he trailed off.

"No." she answered quickly, blushing horribly as she began formulating a plan to murder Anthea. Mycroft looked unbelievably relieved.

"Good. If so, someone might be getting a ride in a very threatening black car to an abandoned warehouse," he joked but Alex knew that he was being deadly serious.

"Haha, well no spooky warehouses or big black cars Uncle Mycroft," Alex laughed uncomfortably.

Just then, both Mycroft and Alex's phones buzzed. She took it out and choked on air,

**May not be getting married, but she ****_is _****of the age to bear children ) –A**

Alex cringed and dared a glance at her Uncle who had received the same text. He was paper white and his lips were pressed together in a very thin line. She practically heard him mentally counting to ten.

"Uncle, seriously I… um… haven't… won't have… not f-for a long time… okay never… yeah," she stuttered.

Mycroft continued to stare at a certain spot on the mantelpiece. Alex sucked in a breath.

"Well Uncle, jolly nice of you to invite me for tea. It was lovely but I have got to dash. Sherlock said that he was taking me… b-bowling," she lied through her teeth as she gathered up her coat and headed towards the door. Mycroft continued to stare at the mantel.

"Bye," she said lamely.

No answer.

Alex backed out of the study and closed the doors. She let out a long deep breath. Wait- did she just say that Sherlock was taking her bowling? Oh bloody hell. Next, the mafia will start handing out candy canes!

"Anthea, prepare for your slow and painful demise," Alex muttered as she slipped into the black car. However, she was surprised to see that the woman wasn't there.

"Hey, where is Anthea?" Alex asked the driver.

"Something about taking out life insurance or something," he said over his shoulder.

Alex nodded in satisfaction. _Better start making your will now_, Alex thought as they drove back to Baker Street. Alex nodded her thanks to the driver as she climbed out of the car and walked over to her flat. It was then that her mobile buzzed.

**I believe it is time that Sherlock had a certain little chat with you. He is waiting for you inside- MH**

Alex's eyes widened in horror. Seriously!?

She dialled Anthea's number in her phone and hid around the corner out of sight from the flat.

"_Hello Alex!" _she answered brightly.

"Anthea," Alex began in a deadly clam voice, "I am going to hunt you down and stab a crucifix through your heart of ice!"

"_Whoa, cool it. It was only a bit of fun. He is probably over it now. And I am not the one with the heart of ice! I have a boyfriend!"_

"Mycroft is not 'over it' because he has rang bloody Sherlock and told him to give me 'the talk'! I swear to God Anthea, I am going to murder you!" Alex yelled, earning herself some strange looks from a passer-by. Alex gave them a small, forced smile and they warily walked away.

There was silence on the other end of the phone until Anthea burst out in peals of laughter, forcing Alex to hold the phone away from her ear.

"It isn't funny! Oh and now I am probably going to get sectioned because some guy just heard me wanting to murder you!" Alex hissed.

"_Oh this is fantastic. Sherlock giving you 'the talk'!" _she burst out in another round of laughter.

"Shut up and bloody well help me!" Alex begged.

"_Sorry kid. You are going to have to deal with it. Ah my life insurance just came through. Not a moment too soon I reckon. Goodbye Alex and good luck!" _

Alex growled in frustration when Anthea hung up. _Better get this over with, _she thought grimly. Maybe Mycroft was bluffing? Yeah, he was totally bluffing.

Reassured by this thought, Alex opened up the door to the flat and proceeded up the stairs. All hope vanished however when she saw her Uncle looking pale, wide eyed and cleaning his gun. _Oh God help me!_

Alex cleared her throat and he swung around from his position in the arm chair to face her.

"Hello Alex," he said stiffly.

"Hello Uncle Sherlock."

There was an extremely awkward pause.

"Your Uncle Mycroft has just rang me," Sherlock began.

"Oh really?" Alex said almost desperately.

"Yes, about a… conversation that occurred while you were with him, concerning your… love life," Sherlock almost spat the words and Alex's stomach contracted painfully.

"Right," Alex coughed.

"We think that it is time to… have a… discussion… about…" Sherlock trailed off. Under different circumstances, it would have been amusing to see Sherlock looking so flustered.

"Sherlock, please don't do this," Alex begged, "I know everything, honestly I do! It is obvious that we both don't want to do this, so why go through it?"

Alex could tell that Sherlock was tempted. Very tempted.

"And," she continued, sensing that her Uncle was about to break, "If we waited a few years, it would be fresh in my mind wouldn't it? I mean, I am not likely to be having sex for a few years from now am I?"

Sherlock flinched at the prospect of her ever having sex but relented,

"Agreed."

Alex sighed loudly in relief and collapsed onto the sofa.

"Thank you Sherlock," she said sincerely.

"No problem, just as long as you know that you are now not allowed to be within a fifteen feet radius of any boy your age."

Alex huffed, of course there would be a price. She took out her phone and texted Anthea.

**Crisis averted, how is Mycroft?- AH**

**Recovering-A**

Alex smirked. She was going to have so much fun tormenting them when she was older.

**AN: So how was that, just thought I would add a little humour to cheer myself up more than anything. Seriously feeling down with this stupid bug...**

**Please review**

**-Abby**

**x**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN- So here is chapter 8. I really enjoyed writing this actually. More than I expected to. Even though I love all of the Sherlock episodes, my least favourite has to be the blind banker but it has proved to be just as fun to write :). Thank you to:**

**Hetty1204**

**kit9802**

**Syra Sunn**

**hannahizar**

**Scottish Bluebell**

**Seventeenforeverxoxo**

**KijoKuroi**

**thisismylife123**

**And again, a massive thank you to I-Am-The-TARDIS for your review. I am glad I made you laugh, I certainly giggled while I was writing it.**

**Enjoy-**

Alex had printed out the photographs of the graffiti near and across Sir William's portrait for Sherlock so that he could stick them around the mirror above the fireplace. He was sitting on one of the dining chairs with his back to the dining table. He had his fingers tucked under his chin in a prayer position and was staring at the photos. Both him and his niece were clad in their coats because the heating wasn't working.

Alex was seriously bored. She didn't understand any of the graffiti or any of that. All she could comprehend was the fact that Edward Van Coon had been murdered. Oh, she was so bored. She was slowly going insane and had the sudden urge to… to… oh I don't know, shoot a wall or something.

"Sherlock-"

"Shush."

Alex huffed.

"Sherlock-"

"Shush!"

Alex tried not to smile.

"Sh," she said.

Sherlock nodded.

"Erlock."

He took a deep breath.

"Sherlock," she sang.

"Sherlock, Sherlock, Sher-lock!"

Sherlock gritted his teeth.

"Yes, Alex?"

"I am bored," she complained.

"Go and talk to Anderson," he muttered distractedly.

"I said I was bored, not desperate."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and continued to concentrate on the case. Alex decided that it was time to try a different tactic. She pulled up a chair and sat opposite her Uncle, resting her head on her arms and staring directly into Sherlock's face. She had to admit, he did pretty well at first. He didn't even look back at her, just kept his eye trained on the pictures. But, even the great Sherlock Holmes had to crack sooner or later as his eye flickered towards his niece for only a second. Alex almost snickered. His eyes began to dart back between her and the pictures, so much so that Alex was dizzy just by watching them.

"What do you want!" he finally cracked.

"Just to see how long it took," Alex said casually as she tucked the chair back and checked her watch, "Seven minutes, pretty impressive, 'Locky."

Sherlock visibly shuddered, "Not that horrible nickname," he muttered.

"Come on, I made it up when I was three, I was very proud of it," Alex defended.

"Yes, you made that blatantly clear when you wrote it in _Sharpie_ across my scarf."

"Well, yeah but I did cheer you up afterwards by writing 'Crofty on Uncle Mycroft's umbrella," Alex grinned.

Sherlock gave a faint smirk as he recalled the memory.

"Yes, you were a rather amusing child, but you are an insufferable teenager, now go to your room."

"Why?" she whined.

"Because I am trying to solve a murder!"

Alex grumbled but obeyed and trudged up to her room, which was opposite John's. She collapsed onto her bed and snuggled under the covers. The boiler was on the blink again and it was bloody freezing in the early autumn air. She wrapped the duvet around her body as tight as she could to try and keep in some heat. That was when she heard a knock on her window. She jumped up and ran over, her hair swishing madly behind her. Hanging onto the window pane on the outside was Logan. Alex grinned.

"Open up then," he mouthed through the glass.

Alex moved her hand to the handle when she saw the thin, almost invisible wire stretching across it and she remembered what Anthea had said.

_"'Night Kid," Anthea said from the doorway, "Oh and don't open the window, it has an alarm on now that will give your Uncle a shock every time you open it."_

Her eyes widened.

"Logan, I can't open the window, it is locked," she mouthed to him.

"Since when did _you_ have trouble picking a lock?" he mimed back.

"Look, just go to the front door, but don't knock. I will be down in a minute."

Logan nodded and swung (as he had done many times before) of the pane and down the drainpipe. Alex picked up her baking book that she had gotten for Christmas last year and went down the stairs into the living room.

"I am going to Mrs Hudson's since no one bothers to talk to me here," Alex sniffed.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at her dramatics.

"What have you got in your hand?" he asked.

"Baking book. Mrs Hudson wanted to borrow it to make that shortbread for her sister," Alex lied smoothly.

She actually held her breath until Sherlock nodded, taking her word for it and turned back towards the photos.

Alex took off down the stairs and bypassed Mrs Hudson's door and went straight through the hall to the front door. Sure enough, Logan was stood shivering outside.

"What took you so l-"

Alex silenced him with her hand and nodded up towards the living room.

"Is Sherlock in?" he whispered.

"Yeah. So we need to be quiet while we get up to my room," Alex said seriously. Logan didn't answer but just stared.

"Logan?"

He tilted his head to over her shoulder and she turned to see Mrs Hudson leaning against the banisters with an amused look on her face.

"Hey, Mrs H! Logan was just dropping off some homework and… pick up a book," Alex started.

Mrs Hudson just nodded along mock seriously.

"And get some… oh please don't tell Sherlock," she pleaded.

"Of course not dear, oh and could I borrow that cookbook, I am thinking of making some shortbread," Mrs Hudson asked.

_I am just psychic, _Alex thought as she handed over the book and led Logan up the stairs to the flat. They walked lightly on their feet, not daring to breathe. She held up her hand as they reached the door to the living room, signalling for Logan to wait. He nodded and Alex composed herself before entering. Sherlock looked up in surprise.

"Mrs Hudson wasn't in," Alex grumbled convincingly.

"Oh what a shame, what are you going to do to quell your boredom now?" Sherlock asked.

"Don't pretend to care Sherlock," Alex said, but with a smile to let her Uncle know that she was only joking, "In answer to your question, I am going to overdose on chocolate and coke."

Sherlock sighed, "Don't tell Mycroft I let you eat all that or he will send me to one of those parenting class things like last time. That was an absolute disaster."

"Well maybe if you didn't tell the pregnant woman's husband that the baby wasn't his, or show that six year old the headless monk, it might have gone okay," Alex commented from where she was stretching to reach the sweet cupboard.

"He thought it was cool," Sherlock defended.

"Yeah, he did, but his two year old sister didn't!"

"I don't think I have ever heard a child scream so loud," Sherlock wondered aloud.

Alex rolled her eyes and headed out of the door, her arms laden with food. She saw that Logan had wisely sneaked up to her room while Sherlock and her were conversing. She opened the door and dumped the arm full of E-numbers onto the bed, much to the astonishment of Logan.

"You have excelled yourself Holmes."

"Is that so Baxter?"

Logan laughed and ruffled her hair.

The two best friends were soon sat happily munching away at the chemically preserved mush that everyone loves so much. The only problem was the cold.

"Al', I am freezing," Logan shivered.

"Well, you shouldn't have given me your jumper," Alex said as she began to pull it back over her head to give it back to him.

"No," she stopped, "You keep it."

Alex shrugged but to be honest, she was feeling the chill as well. Not that she would admit that however. She was starting to notice that she was beginning to become more like Sherlock. Earlier that day she had manipulated him into not giving her 'the talk', remembered about the trap on her window, lied to get past him in the living room, smuggled Logan in, convinced Mrs Hudson to keep quiet, then got an arm full of additives and sneaked them (and Logan) past Sherlock Holmes himself and now was being too proud to admit that she was cold! She didn't quite know if she liked it or not. I mean, being like her uncle would be great! He had been her role model since she was small. But… she didn't quite know if she wanted to be a sociopath like Sherlock. She saw how clever he was and she supposed that you had to sacrifice something to be that much of a genius. She loved Logan and Molly and Anthea and Sherlock and Mycroft and Lestrade and John. If she was a sociopath, wouldn't all of that just get taken away?

Logan watched Alex carefully as a range of emotions washed over her face. He could tell that something was bothering her but he didn't want to pry into her privacy. He knew what it was like, him having five sisters and three brothers. You couldn't hide a bag of crisps. Secrets were very important and if Alex was keeping something from him, he would just allow her to mull things over in her own head. They had known each other for long enough to know just to wait for one another and they would talk when they were ready. Logan had to admit though; things had been a little different between them lately. Their conversations weren't so playful and chatty anymore, they were more, dare he say it… flirty. Not full out sultry voices and suggestive innuendos, come on, they were fourteen-nearly-fifteen and sixteen. Just little compliments or subtle looks. _Well, I am not complaining,_ Logan thought with a smile.

"What are you smiling about?" Alex asked.

Logan broke out of his reverie to find the girl of his thoughts looking at him.

"Oh nothing. Just grimacing against the cold," he replied. It wasn't lying, he was freezing, it just wasn't telling the complete truth.

Alex looked thoughtful.

"If we put all of the food on the mattress and take the duvet off, then I can pull the curtains around the four poster to keep some heat in and we can put the duvet over ourselves and sit on the mattress with the food," she suggested.

"Sounds good to me."

Ten minutes later, Logan and Alex were sat in the infinitely warmer duvet, a little closer to each other than Sherlock would have liked had he been there.

"So, what is with all of the sneaking around, surely Sherlock must know that I visit?" Logan asked, his mouth full of salt and vinegar crisps.

"I am grounded after my last trip to Birmingham," Alex confessed.

"Birmingham?!" Logan exclaimed.

Alex shushed him and motioned to downstairs.

"Sorry, but Birmingham?" he whispered, "Why?"

"I just… well, I might as well tell you," Alex took a deep breath, "Do you remember last week in the paper about that crazy cabbie and the pills?"

Logan nodded hesitantly. _Where was this going?_

"Well, Sherlock and I were with him in Roland-Kerr Further Education College. He tried to make us play the game."

Logan stiffened and shuffled just a tiny, _tiny _bit closer to Alex.

"Sherlock convinced him to let me go and he sent me to go and phone Mycroft to pick me up at the road outside. I ran out and went to call when I realised that the cabbie still had my phone. I went back in and neither of them were in the classroom. That's when I saw that two pills were gone. I thought he was…" Alex trailed off.

"Dead," Logan finished.

Alex nodded.

"Anyway, I was that distraught, I just couldn't think. So I climbed onto the roof to run when I saw a stretcher. It was actually Jeff, oh the cabbie, Jeff was his name, but I thought that the body was Sherlock's so I just ran. Caught a few buses. Ended up in the rain and cold in Birmingham. Got mugged. But the worst part was that I thought he was dead. I thought that I would never see him again," Alex murmured quietly and she realised to her horror that her eyes held tears.

Logan blew out a breath and looped an arm around Alex's shoulders. He inhaled her scent. God she smelt beautiful. Not knowing exactly what he was doing, Logan gently turned Alex's head from where it was buried in his chest and softly pressed his lips against hers.

Alex froze. What does she do? Kiss him back? Stay still? Move away? Move closer? Argh damn the Holmes social awkwardness. She needed Molly and Anthea. They would tell her what to do. Oh Jesus.

Logan seemed to pick up on Alex's discomfort and began to move away in embarrassment.

_Oh what the hell!_

Alex kissed him back and she felt him smile against her lips. They pulled away.

"Well… that was unexpected," she muttered.

"You are telling me," Logan replied.

Alex cleared her throat.

"I am just going to talk to John… he has just come through the door," she lied again.

Logan nodded and Alex slipped out into the hallway and took out her phone.

"Pick up… pick up… come on… World War 3 can wait… yes! Anthea!"

_"Hey kid, what's up?"_

"Logan just kissed me, what do I do?" Alex panicked.

"_Didn't take you two long did it," _Anthea laughed.

"Not the time. Tell me what to do?"

"_You can so tell that you are Mycroft and Sherlock's niece. Okay, where are you?" _

"In my bedroom."

_"Whoa Alex, you are only fourteen."_

"What are you talking about?" Alex asked naïvely.

_"If I were you, make up some lie about Sherlock coming in and get out. Don't make a huge mistake that you will regret later," _Anthea said seriously.

The pieces clicked.

"Anthea no! It isn't like that Jesus. There are quite a few _legal_ issues with that. No, he was comforting me and it just kind of happened. The kiss, I mean," Alex added hastily.

_"Good, you had me worried that you were making up for your Uncle's naïvety there," _Anthea laughed.

"Honestly Anthea, you are the Jack Harkness of the real world. I knew I should have phoned Molly, all I get from you are innuendos," Alex muttered

_"Alright, I am serious now. Tell Logan that you will meet up with him at school on Monday and not before then. Don't even text him. This will give you both time to think about what you both want without either of you getting influenced by the other," _Anthea said wisely.

Alex contemplated it.

"Thanks Anthea. You're fantastic," Alex smiled.

"_As your Uncle keeps reminding me. See you, kid!" _

Alex raised an eyebrow but retreated back to her room and conveyed the plan to Logan.

"Good idea," he agreed.

"Are you sure that you are okay with it?" Alex asked cautiously.

"Of course," he smiled but as Alex turned to lead him down the stairs, he caught her elbow, "but whatever happens, can we still stay friends?" he asked nervously.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Alex smiled, relieved that Logan still wanted to be her friend.

It was easier to sneak back down that it was to get up because all Alex had to do was distract Sherlock while Logan made a run for it back to his house. He touched Alex's arm as he left and she had to hold her breath. _Partial sociopath oh great..._

She shook her head and wandered back into the living room with her Uncle, the cogs in her mind working overtime.

* * *

_Meanwhile:_

John was sat opposite the woman known as Sarah in the surgery as she sifted through his CV.

"Just locum work," she told him.

"No, that's fine," he smiled back, trying to be polite. It was hard to adjust to one minute having to restrain Sherlock to being around normal people again.

"You're, um ... well, you're a bit over-qualified."

"Well... I could really do with the money," he said.

Sherlock wasn't likely to be getting a paid job anytime soon so John was the only hope of bringing in any money. The prospect of Sherlock behind a till in Sainsbury's was almost laughable.

"Well, we've got two away on holiday this week, and one's just left to have a baby. Might be a bit mundane for you," Sarah warned.

"Er, no; mundane is good sometimes. Mundane works."

If anyone needed some time to be normal, it was John bloody Watson. If he kept living on adrenaline 100% of the time, he didn't thing his blood pressure would be able to take it.

"It says here you were a soldier," Sarah said softly.

"And a doctor," John added.

He smiled at her again and she looked down with a blush, clearly fancying him.

"Anything else you can do?" she coughed to divert his attention away from her rosy cheeks.

John rattled his memory. There had to be something-

"I… played clarinet at school," he said hopefully.

"Oh, well I look forward to it!" she laughed, and John smiled at her cute giggle. Mundane might_ not _be the right word after all.

John had a soppy grin on his face all the way in the taxi.

"Someone special got you smiling like that mate?" the cabbie asked good naturedly.

"Something like that. Hopefully."

"Tell me where you got yours from and I will see if I can get a special deal."

John chuckled and smiled again to himself as he thought of Sarah.

* * *

_Back in Baker street_

John walked in from the landing and dropped his jacket onto his well-worn armchair.

"John, I said, 'Could you pass me a pen?'" Sherlock said without turning away from the photographs that he was still studying.

"What? When?" Alex asked from her position on the couch.

"About an hour ago."

"No you didn't," Alex frowned.

"Must not have said that aloud."

"Wow, to a person five miles away and in your head, that must be some sort of record," Alex commented and John snorted as he threw a pen at Sherlock who caught it without breaking his gaze with the evidence on the mirror.

"Speaking of being five miles away, how did the job interview go?" Alex asked John.

"Job interview?" Sherlock interrupted.

"Yes, the one at the surgery," John sighed.

"So how did it go?" Alex prompted.

John immediately grinned,

"It's great. She's great."

"Who?" Sherlock asked in surprise.

"The job," John said.

"'She'" Alex teased.

"…It," he said, blushing.

"Aw you have gone red!" Alex giggled.

"If you two have finished your little gossip, come over and have a look at this," Sherlock said.

Alex shook her head and climbed over the back of the sofa to see the webpage on the laptop that Sherlock had in his hand.

**_Ghostly killer leaves a mystery for police _**

_An intruder who can walk through walls murdered a man in his London apartment last night. Brian Lukis, 41, a freelance journalist from Earl's Court was found shot in his fourth floor flat but all his doors and windows were locked and there were no apparent signs of a break in. A police spokesman said they are still uncertain how the assailant broke in..._

Next to it was a photograph of a bald man.

"'The intruder who can walk through walls'," John quoted.

"Happened last night. Journalist shot dead in his flat; doors locked, windows bolted from the inside – exactly the same as Van Coon," Sherlock said.

"God. You think ..." John trailed off looking at Sherlock.

"He has killed another one," Alex whispered.

**Please, please review! :) Thank you for reading!**

**-Abby**

**X**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Hello again! So here is chapter nine. I am feeling a lot better now so updates should be more frequent :)**

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Alex was sat in the waiting room inside Scotland Yard. Sherlock and John had gone in to see Dimmock, but he insisted that Alex was too young to take part in any aspect of the case. She smirked as she remembered her Uncle's words,

_"Looking at you, she is hardly much older and she does a better job than the half of this department put together; but then again, that isn't saying much!"_

Ah, the joys of being his niece. Alex's happy thoughts were dashed however when none other than Sally Donovan came snooping past.

"Hello Freak Junior. How are you?" she leered.

"Fine thanks," Alex said coolly. She had promised Mycroft that she would try to keep her temper. That was a conversation and a half-

_Alex was sprawled out on the sofa in Baker Street, her legs dangling casually over the arm rest when Mycroft Holmes walked in._

_"Why do you insist on being so unladylike? Have you ever wondered that if you act like a mature woman, you would get much more respect?" _

_Alex paused for a moment in mock thought._

_"No, not really."_

_He sighed and sat down in the arm chair opposite her, his back perfectly straight and his arms folded neatly in front of him. _

_"Speaking of respect, I was just informed about an incident that occurred between you and Sergeant… is it Donovan?" he asked._

_Alex nodded glumly and moved from her horizontal state to sitting up. Mycroft studied her for a second. She was determined not to be fazed and stared straight back at him. _

_"Alex… I know that it is hard for you to a niece of Sherlock and I. We are hardly a fantastic example to you-"_

_"No, you are! You both-" Alex interrupted._

_"All I mean is," Mycroft cut in, "I know that you aspire to be like Sherlock, and I understand that he is still teaching you to deduce."_

_Alex nodded._

_"I need you to understand Alex, what happened with Sergeant Donovan is a classic example of what happens when you develop your skills in deduction. Instead of seeing a person as who they are, all of the things that make them themselves, you start to see as _what_ they are as opposed to _who_. You begin to just see all of the small details and you see them more as a recipe than a cake. I just want you to know what you are getting yourself into because there is no going back," Mycroft said sincerely._

_Alex felt a lump in her throat. She wanted to be like Sherlock so much. A consulting detective was the thing that she wrote down when she was four and they asked her what she was going to be when she grew up. The thought of not being one was enough to make her feel sick._

_"What do you suggest I do?" she asked quietly._

_"Rein in your temper. This way, you may gain a close circle of friends and you will find that with a select few, you may be able to see past the words swimming around your head," Mycroft said gently, "You don't want to scare anyone off with the Holmes temper."_

_Alex gave him a small smile._

_"Do you have a select few? That you can see as just them," she asked almost timidly._

_"Of course. You, as much as I hate to admit it, Sherlock and Anthea."_

_Alex raised her eyebrow._

_"I have been hearing about Anthea and you a lot recently. Are you two a thing?" _

_Mycroft suddenly grew bright crimson. Alex squealed._

_"Oh my God, you are!"_

_"It is more on and off," he murmured. He couldn't believe that he was actually having this conversation. With his niece of all people. _

_"It's so cute," Alex cooed. She suddenly gasped,_

_"Will I have a baby cousin on the way?!" she rushed excitedly._

_If it was possible, Mycroft blushed even more. _

_"Definitely not."_

_Alex pouted but still had a grin on her lips. This was the first time that she could remember discussing Mycroft's love life. Well, the first time that he had actually given a reply._

_"Well, I better be heading back," Mycroft declared as he stood up._

_"Uncle Sherlock is about to pull up isn't he?" _

_"Yes," Mycroft chuckled and kissed her forehead, "Goodbye my dear. And don't forget about what I said about controlling your temper."_

_Alex nodded obediently. As soon as she heard the front door shut, she swung her legs back over the armrest and slouched back into her most unladylike position._

Alex was startled from her memory by the sickening voice of Donovan,

"What are you so thinking deeply about? What you are having for dinner?"

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

"No. I was merely… pondering what to do for my English Lit class," Alex lied through gritted teeth.

Donovan scoffed.

"This wasn't nearly as fun as I thought it would be. Crap morning and here I thought that I could let off some steam arguing with you," she muttered as she turned to walk away.

Alex blew out a breath. She would have loved to punch her in the face but she couldn't break her promise to Mycroft. Instead of feeling liberated as she had hoped, she actually felt constricted. Like she couldn't move or do anything without fearing that she would just explode with anger. She had so much to be angry for. She was angry at her Mother for committing suicide, her Father for never showing his face, the bullies at school for making her life hell, the fact that she could never be normal even if she wanted to because of her second name. Her stupid second name. She wondered for just a moment if she could have been Lestrade's niece. Alessandra Lestrade, it had a nice ring to it. Things would be so much easier. She wouldn't have the burden of having to live up to the two biggest geniuses that she had ever met. She wouldn't be picked on because she was smarter than others. She would actually be able to interact with people her own age without having to run to Anthea or Molly every time she got stuck.

Alex blew out another deep breath and cleared her thoughts. It was no good thinking about 'what ifs' or 'maybes'. She learnt that lesson when she was six. She would always be Alessandra Holmes. But that wasn't so bad.

It was then that her mobile began to vibrate in her pocket.

"Hello?" Alex chirped.

"Hello dear. I am afraid that I have some bad news," her Uncle Mycroft's voice floated through the receiver.

Alex sat up straighter.

"What?" she asked urgently.

"Oh nothing horrific. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to get you the whole week off school."

Alex groaned.

"When do I have to go back?"

"Um… ten minutes," and hung up.

Alex stared at her phone in shock.

"What?!"

* * *

Alex wrestled her way back into her school uniform as she sent a text to Sherlock explaining why she wasn't at the police station. She tied up her hair in a lazy ponytail and slipped her tie on. As she threw on her backpack and turned to leave, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and cringed. The horrible, horrible black blazer and red tie. She could almost hear it jeering at her,

"Look at me, slipped snug around your neck! You know what this means! You know where you are going!"

She just wanted to rip it off. And that was her thought as she hailed a cab and closed her eyes as it took her closer and closer to hell.

The taxi pulled up way too soon and in her desperate state, she had thrown the driver three twenty pound notes. Needless to say, he sped off before she could comprehend what she had just done. Alex shook her head at her own stupidity and trooped into the school.

Everyone was halfway through second lesson when Alex shuffled through the corridor and approached the door to her science lesson. She hesitated, her hand wavering over the handle. She could hear the muffled voices on the other side. She bit her bottom lip as she heard the hollering voice of Becky Davidson.

"Are you going to go in or not?" a voice asked.

Alex whirled around to see her maths teacher behind her.

"Oh yeah… I was just sort of, getting ready."

He gave her a strange look and walked to his classroom. Alex swallowed as she opened the door.

All heads immediately snapped to her, conversations dropped as she hovered awkwardly in the open doorway. Alex shifted uncomfortably under their gaze.

"Um… sorry I was late miss."

Miss Wallace just gave her an insufferable sigh and nodded towards Alex's seat at the back of the class. Alex scuffled awkwardly around the girls who had pushed their seats out as far as they could so that she couldn't get past. She had to dodge feet that came to trip her over but eventually managed to get to her seat with still some dignity left.

Mrs Wallace then began her lecture on the difference between hydrocarbons, polyethene and polyethane. Alex started to drift.

_Meanwhile:_

Detective Inspector Dimmock was sat at his desk with that arrogant sod Sherlock Holmes in front of him, typing on the keyboard of his laptop at an alarmingly fast rate. John Watson was stood next to him. John seemed like a nice, normal person and Dimmock couldn't help but wonder how the hell he ended up being friends with Sherlock Holmes of all people.

"Brian Lukis, freelance journalist. Murdered in his flat ..." Sherlock spun the laptop around to face Dimmock, "doors locked from the inside."

"You've got to admit, it's similar," John reasoned.

Dimmock scowled at the pair of them. They were like school boys. This was _his _case not theirs. They weren't even on the force!

"Both men killed by someone who can walk through solid walls," John continued, not quite believing that he had actually said that.

"Inspector, do you seriously believe that Eddie Van Coon was just another City suicide?" Sherlock asked, staring at him intently.

Dimmock squirmed uncomfortably under the Consulting Detective's gaze as Sherlock sighed in exasperation.

"You have seen the ballistics report, I suppose?"

Dimmock nodded but kept his mouth shut.

"And the shot that killed him: was it fired from his own gun?" Sherlock pressed.

"… No," he admitted reluctantly, internally grumbling.

"No. So this investigation might move a bit quicker if you were to take my word as gospel," Sherlock declared.

He put his hands on the desk and leaned over so that he was inches away from the Detective Inspector's face.

"I've just handed you a murder enquiry," he straightened up, "Five minutes in his flat."

* * *

Alex quite liked her seat at the back. It meant that she could sit and doodle or write stories while no one else would notice. There was also the most important thing that she could see all of her enemies. She knew that gave her quite a large advantage. But it still hurt her to see the knowing looks passed between their little cliques or the snide comments made about her that sent a round of laughter around their little coven.

"Have you seen its hair?"

"It is such a weirdo."

"Little freak."

"Why did it have to come back?"

These were the general comments that circulated around the classroom in the first five minutes of Alex entering. As you can see, Alex didn't even have the privilege of being called 'she', just 'it' because they thought that she was too weird to call herself human.

"Alex, are you paying attention?" Mrs Wallace asked.

"Yes, Miss."

"Okay then, what is a polymer made up of?"

"Monomers," Alex replied instantly. She was taught this by Sherlock when she was five.

"How many possible electrons in the first shell?"

"Two."

"Chemical symbol of limestone."

"CaCO3."

"Good. Name a method used to separate crude oil," Mrs Wallace was trying to catch her out. They hadn't covered this yet.

Alex inwardly smirked,

"Fractional Distillation."

Mrs Wallace looked defeated for only a minute but quickly recovered.

"Yes, well done," she said briskly, "Now back onto the class after you interrupted. Hydrocarbons are made up of only…"

Alex felt a surge of anger. She didn't interrupt! It was then insolent cow of a teacher that wanted to seem cleverer than her. Mycroft's words floated back to her however and she suppressed her irritation.

* * *

Sherlock and John ducked under the blue police tape at Lukis's flat and jogged up the stairs his long legs taking three steps at once.

He entered Lukis's living room and immediately began to scrape his eyes over everything he could see. An empty suitcase lay overturned on the floor, a crumpled black origami lotus was discarded on the carpet and the whole room was scattered with books and CDs of all different types. The floor was barely noticeable under all of the clutter. John and DI Dimmock followed Sherlock into the room.

Sherlock suddenly walked over into the little kitchenette in the corner of the living room and pulled back the curtains of the window there. He gave a small smile to himself.

"Four floors up," he mumbled, "That's why they think that they are safe. Put a chain across a door, bolt it shut, think they are impregnable," he walked back to the centre of the room, "They do not reckon for one second that there is another way in."

"I don't understand," Dimmock said as Sherlock brushed past him and walked back onto the landing.

"We are dealing with a killer who can climb," he proclaimed as he pulled out a stool and stood up on it.

"What are you doing?" Dimmock asked incredulously.

Sherlock knocked open the small skylight in the top of the wall,

"Clings to the walls like an insect. That is how he got in."

"What?" Dimmock asked again, seeming extremely thick to not only Sherlock but to John as well.

"He climbed up the side of the walls, ran along the roof and dropped in through this skylight," Sherlock explained.

"You're not serious. Like spider man?" his voice dripping in sarcasm.

Sherlock turned to him with barely concealed contempt on his face.

"He scaled six floors of a Docklands apartment building, jumped the balcony and killed Van Coon."

"Oh, hold on," Dimmock laughed.

But Sherlock just ignored him and ploughed on,

"That is how he got into the bank- ran along the window ledge onto the terrace," he stood down from the stool, "I have to find out what connects these two men…" Sherlock trailed off as something caught his eye on the stairs. He bent down and picked up an open book. In the top corner was a stamp of two lions around a crest and a banner underneath saying: **_WEST KENSINGTON LIBRARY_**

Sherlock slammed the book shut and stored it in his enormous coat before taking off back down the stairs again and surging towards a taxi, John (as always) close by his side. They arrived at the library and found the shelf that Lukas's book came from.

"Date stamped on the book is the same day that he died," Sherlock said as he began rifling through the different books on the shelf. John began to do the same when he stopped. He had just pulled out three books to reveal the same yellow graffiti that was sprayed in the office at the back of the shelf.

"Sherlock," he said grimly.

His friend turned to him and pulled out handfuls of books to reveal the whole tag.

* * *

The bell didn't ring early enough and Alex rushed to throw her bag over her shoulder and collect her homework. She was halfway down the stairs when she heard someone call her name, well her school name.

"Freak!"

Alex closed her eyes for a second and turned to face Victoria Mason.

"Yes Victoria?"

"What have you been saying about me?" Veronica snarled, her eyes flashing.

Alex frowned,

"I haven't said anything," she defended.

_I don't even talk to anybody_!

"Yeah of course you haven't," she said sarcastically.

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit," Alex muttered and turned to head back down to the corridor to the yard.

Victoria grabbed her arm,

"I don't like people who spread lies about me," she hissed.

It was then that Alex realised that Becky Davidson was laughing from behind her hand and Alex knew that she had told Victoria a load of rubbish.

"And I don't take kindly to people latching onto my arm and lowering my IQ. If I were you, I would go and talk to Becky. She seems like she has a lot to say today," Alex said in a forced calm.

Victoria looked at her like she was something on the underside of her shoe and grunted as she stalked away.

Alex shook her head and continued to go and find Logan- wait, hang on. Alex stopped. She wasn't supposed to be in contact with Logan until Monday and in was only Wednesday. She groaned. How was she supposed to get through a whole day without plotting a murder with him?

Deciding that she would stick with the plan, Alex walked sullenly to the library and took out her Stephen King book and read until the bell went. She checked her timetable. Next, she had Citizenship. _Oh great,_ she thought sarcastically as she weaved around the streams of students flooding the corridor.

Alex immediately took the single table at the back of the room and sat down. She always preferred the single tables because there was no chance whatsoever of anyone sitting next to you and making it their mission to make the next hour a misery. Alex was much happier in her own company.

Just then, the door swung open and Mrs Morton (her Citizenship teacher) walked in, followed by a Chinese woman.

"Hello Class! Today, instead of doing the end of topic test, the headmaster has organised for Laura here," she motioned to the woman stood next to her, "to give us an insight into Chinese culture."

_Hm, Laura. Doesn't sound like a Chinese name, _Alex thought to herself as Laura nodded gratefully to Mrs Morton and stood at the front of the class.

"Hello. As you have been told, I am here to show you some of the things we do in China so that you can compare our lifestyles. First, we shall start with hobbies. Now, on the end of every desk, there is a square piece of white paper. I shall show you today how to make an origami tulip."

There was an excited murmur throughout the class. It beat doing a test.

Laura took her own piece of paper and demonstrated how to do it.

The next ten minutes brought frustration and ripped paper for all. Well, all apart from Alex. Her tulip was done, a little too loose around the folds but it at least resembled a tulip (unlike everybody else's). Alex placed the tulip gently at the corner of her desk and admired it. Of course, nobody else had noticed that she had succeeded in making it and she really didn't want the attention. Therefore, she was surprised to see Laura making her way over to her.

"Your tulip is very good," she praised in broken English.

"Thank you," Alex muttered quietly.

Laura studied her, looking from the paper flower and back to her. She seemed to be taking in all of her features and Alex began to feel slightly uncomfortable.

"Would you like to try another flower?" Laura asked, seemingly breaking out of her trance-like gaze.

"Um, yes please," Alex said shyly.

Laura pulled out a square piece of black paper and gently placed it in front of her on the desk.

"What type of flower is it?" Alex asked.

"A very special one," Laura said with a smile that Alex couldn't quite place, "A lotus. A black lotus."

**Dun Dun Dun!**

**Haha, couldn't resist putting that, I have been saying it in my head with the dramatic drums through the whole of this chapter. I am beginning to feel like the master. I am thinking of Alex having her own case after the blind banker and I have it all planned out. Hopefully, it should work.**

**Thank you for taking the time to read this and if you could spare just an extra minute to review, it would really mean a lot.**

**-Abby**


	10. Chapter 10

**AN- Hey! Chapter ten, might see some fluff somewhere in here :). Thanks to:**

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**Enjoy:**

_Previously,_

_"Would you like to try another flower?" Laura asked, seemingly breaking out of her trance-like gaze._

_"Um, yes please," Alex said shyly._

_Laura pulled out a square piece of black paper and gently placed it in front of her on the desk._

_"What type of flower is it?" Alex asked._

_"A very special one," Laura said with a smile that Alex couldn't quite place, "A lotus. A black lotus."_

Alex was intrigued as she watched Laura delicately fold over the paper and twist and turn. It was now Alex's turn. She folded it diagonally twice so that there was a cross in the middle. She then folded in every corner three times and turned it over. She folded them corners in twice and popped out the paper from underneath and gasped. The lotus was in her hand, complete and beautiful.

"You have skill," Laura remarked and walked back to the front of the class.

Alex just looked down at the flower. It was small and intricate and… she couldn't help the feeling of familiarity- like she had seen in before.

The rest of the lesson passed learning the Chinese alphabet and numbers and Alex had to admit that she was having one of the best lessons she had ever had. Everyone was so occupied with the different activities, that they forgot to pick on her. And the Chinese language was so beautiful, the way that the words just rolled off your tongue like cool water rippling over smooth pebbles in a shallow stream.

By the time the bell went, Alex had made three more lotuses and had them carefully in her inside pocket so that they wouldn't get crushed. She caught a cab back to Baker Street (the school bus was just another hunting ground for the imbeciles) and walked straight in.

"Hey Mrs H!" Alex greeted as the elderly woman hugged her.

"Hello Alex, how was school?" she asked.

"Surprisingly okay actually," Alex replied with a genuine smile that was mirrored by Mrs Hudson.

"You better be going up, Sherlock has been asking for your input in one of his little cases."

Alex nodded and inwardly laughed at the way Mrs Hudson said 'little cases' as if Sherlock was looking for a missing yoyo. She opened the door to the flat and saw John and Sherlock crowded around the mirror muttering between themselves. Alex dumped her school stuff in her room and got changed out of her uniform into something more comfortable. She then re-entered the living room to find them both in exactly the same position.

"So, the killer goes to the bank, leaves a threatening cipher for Van Coon; Van Coon panics, returns to his apartment, locks himself in," Sherlock said, "Hours later, he dies."

"The killer finds Lukis at the library; he writes the cipher on the shelf where he knows it'll be seen; Lukis goes home," John continued, both still staring at the photos.

"Late that night, he dies too."

"Why do they die Sherlock?" John asked softly.

"Only the cipher can tell us," Sherlock replied, equally as softly as he ran his pale finger over the yellow line covering Sir William's eyes.

Alex decided that now was a good time to make them aware that she was home.

"Hello," she said.

Neither seemed to acknowledge her presence.

"Hello," she dragged the word out.

Still no reaction.

Right…

Alex walked over to the cabinet near the desk and took out the gun from the draw. She aimed away from Sherlock and John because her aim wasn't that fantastic. Sherlock had said that he would teach her sometime in the next few months after she had gotten better at the deductions. Alex pointed it at the opposite wall and pulled the trigger.

"Bloody hell! What are you doing?!" John exclaimed as he spun around.

Sherlock on the other hand didn't even flinch.

"Alex has unfortunately picked that up from me. When she was younger and wouldn't listen, I would shoot the wall to shut her up," he said in a bored voice.

John looked at him incredulously and Alex tried not to laugh.

She sobered up and sauntered over to stand next to them.

"So what have we got then?" she asked.

John filled her in on the events that happened when she was at school and Alex looked at the photos.

"Any ideas?" Sherlock asked.

Alex shook her head and was about to turn away when a certain picture caught her eye.

"What is that?" she pointed to an origami flower identical to the one that she had just made.

"It is a lotus," Sherlock said.

"Yeah, but what is it to do with the case?"

"It was found with both bodies. What is the big deal?" John asked in confusion.

Sherlock watched his niece carefully as her eyebrows knitted together. He was about to ask her what she knew but she had turned on her heel and ran up the stairs.

"Alex?" he called from the doorway.

Alex barged into her bedroom and rifled through her blazer pockets. She took out the fragile flower and held it delicately as she ran back down into the living room next to her Uncle.

"Look," she held it out.

Sherlock immediately snatched it and turned it over and over in his hands. John came over to look at it over Sherlock's shoulder.

"Where did you get this from?" he asked urgently.

"I made it."

Sherlock frowned at her,

"You don't know origami."

"No, in Citizenship we had a woman that came in to teach us it," Alex said.

Sherlock placed the flower on the desk and took hold of her shoulders and began to spin her around. She knew what he was doing; he had done it many a time with her before.

"Remember what she looked like," he ordered.

"She was normal height, black hair, Chinese," Alex told him, already feeling dizzy from the spinning.

"Has she been in before?"

"No."

"Do you recognise her from anywhere?"

"No."

"How old did she look?"

"Um... forty-ish."

"What was her name?"

"She introduced herself as Laura."

Sherlock dropped her shoulders.

"Laura? Doesn't sound like a Chinese name at all," John spoke up.

"No," Sherlock rumbled in his deep voice, "It is most likely an alias."

Alex bit her lip.

"So this woman, she could be the murderer?"

Sherlock turned back to her.

"Possibly," he said, "But the question is, why did they go to you? Why would they take a risk like that? They knew that we would find the lotus, they left it for us!"

Sherlock ruffled his hair as he gripped his head.

"It doesn't make sense!"

"Maybe they want to lead us on a false trail," John suggested.

"No," Sherlock dismissed, "They wouldn't do that. A murderer with that skill would just kill us if they wanted us off their trail."

"Comforting," John muttered.

"What if they are messing with us?" Alex said.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her, "What do you mean?"

"They could be showing us that they are everywhere. I mean, not many murderers make it into a secondary school do they. It could be that they are just playing a game."

As soon as the words left her mouth, Alex flashed back to Jeff the cabbie and his words,

_"Come on, play the game," Jeff beckoned._

Her horrible nightmare,

_"Oh, I think she does. Do you want to play with us Alessandra? Do you want to play a game?"_

Twice in the last week. Those words exactly, 'play the game'.

"Alex, are you okay?" John asked.

Alex snapped back to reality and saw that Sherlock had picked up his violin and John was looking at her with concern.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah I am fine. Just feeling a little bit sick. I am going to go and lie down for a while," she said distractedly and turned to go to her bedroom.

John sent her a worried glance, the doctor in him shining through but turned back to the case and tried to drown out Sherlock's very loud violin playing.

Alex was breathing heavily as she shut her door. Those words. It was like when you had a dream and you can't remember any of it until you see a random object that triggers the memory and you strain and strain to try and remember more but you can't. The words rattled around her head and she tried to reach up and grab them but they just swam away at the last minute. She knew that if she managed to fit them together, they would form the answer, like stars joining to make a constellation. She just had to be patient. She took out her notepad and wrote the words down and was about to put the paper back when she realised something. She made three lotuses. One was downstairs and only one was on the desk. Alex dived for her blazer, hoping that she had just accidently left it in the pockets, but it was no use. They were empty.

It was then that Alex felt her black curls drift slightly from her head and her skin cooled by a breeze. She slowly turned her head towards the source and found the window open, the curtains wafting. She hadn't opened it. That could only mean one thing. The murderer had been there. Or was still there. Alex froze and slowly began to back towards the door, her eyes constantly scanning the room for movement.

"Sherlock!" she shouted.

"He is busy," John called back to her.

"The murderer John. Th-they have been here!"

Alex immediately heard two lots of heavy footsteps thundering up the stairs and she felt Sherlock pull her behind him. He looked over to the open window as John scouted around behind the bed and the large wardrobe.

"There is nobody here," he said and Sherlock let go of Alex.

"Did they take anything?" Sherlock asked her.

"The other lotus that I made," she said shakily.

"Where was it?" he demanded.

"On my desk."

Sherlock and John walked over to the desk and Sherlock bent down to eye level of the surface and searched for finger prints.

"Must have worn gloves."

Alex shivered; she couldn't believe that just seconds previously she had been in the same room as a psychotic murderer. John sensed her discomfort and lightly patted her on the shoulder.

"The only way we can figure out who it is and why they are doing this is by decoding the cipher," Sherlock said.

"And how do you propose we do that?"

Sherlock just took off down the stairs and swung his coat dramatically over his shoulders, John and Alex close behind him.

* * *

The street was bustling as usual at Trafalgar Square, with all sorts of people from office workers to tourists, to buskers, to policemen on patrol. You name it, London had it.

"The world's run on codes and ciphers. From the million-pound security system at the bank, to the PIN machine you took exception to, cryptography inhabits our every waking moment," Sherlock told them as they approached the national gallery.

"Yes, okay, but ..." John started.

"But it's all computer-generated: electronic codes, electronic ciphering methods. This is different. It's an ancient device. Modern code-breaking methods won't unravel it," Alex said.

Sherlock looked the other way to hide his proud smirk.

"Where are we headed?" John asked.

Sherlock coughed to get rid of his smile,

"I need to ask some advice."

John looked flabbergasted.

"What?! Sorry?!"

"You heard me perfectly," Sherlock sighed exasperatedly.

"You need advice?" Alex asked.

"On painting, yes. I need to talk to an expert."

Alex immediately knew where they were going and sighed. The person they were meeting wasn't her favourite to say the least. She followed her Uncle straight passed the entrance to the museum and around the side alley. A teenager in a hoodie was stood spray painting a questionable looking police officer onto the metal fire exit of the museum. Alex resisted the urge to grumble as they stopped in front of Raz.

"Part of a new exhibition," he said in his thick cockney accent.

"Interesting," Sherlock muttered, his tone betraying his feelings of the complete opposite.

"I call it Urban Bloodlust Frenzy," Raz chuckled.

"Catchy," John murmured sarcastically and Alex grinned at him.

"I've got two minutes before a Community Support Officer comes round that corner," Raz said, going back to his spraying, "Can we do this while I'm workin'?"

Sherlock took out his mobile phone out of his coat pocket and held it out to Raz. Raz looked from the phone, back to Sherlock and threw the spray can in his hand to John who caught it instinctively after so long in the army. Raz scrolled through the pictures of the graffiti.

"Know the author?" Sherlock asked.

"Recognise the paint. It's like Michigan; hardcore propellant. I'd say zinc."

"What about the symbols? Do you recognise them?" Alex pressed.

Raz turned to her at the sound of her voice and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards.

"I asked you a question," Alex said coldly.

"Not even sure it's a proper language sweetheart."

Alex resisted the urge to bare her teeth.

"Two men have been murdered, Raz. Deciphering this is the key to finding out who killed them," Sherlock interjected before Raz ended up with a broken nose.

"What, and this is all you've got to go on? It's hardly much, now, is it?"

"Are you gonna help us or not?" Sherlock asked loudly, sick of all the chit chat.

"I'll ask around," Raz relented.

"Somebody must know something about it-"

Sherlock was cut off when a gruff sounding police man shouted. Alex bounded off instinctively, Sherlock (for once) struggling to keep up with _her_. By the time they were a few blocks away, she realised that they were a member missing.

"We… we left John," she panted, hands on her knees to catch her breath.

Sherlock looked just as he had before they started running.

"What have I told you? You start off like a scolded cat then end up wheezing not long later! You really need to work on your stamina."

"Can we just give the whole tutor thing a break for just a minute please?" Alex moaned.

"No," Sherlock said shortly.

"Argh, I am sick of constantly having my flaws pointed out!" she exclaimed.

Sherlock turned to his niece with a completely serious look on his face.

"Alex, I know you hate getting taught all of this every waking minute but you have to understand that there are people out there that will use you to get to me. Serious People. I need you to at least have a chance if God forbid any of them decide to go after you."

Alex looked down. She hadn't thought about it like that before. She just thought that he was trying to make her like him. More like a Holmes. It felt nice to know that he was only doing it to keep her safe.

Alex walked over to Sherlock and wrapped her arms around his neck as he held her.

"Sorry…" she apologised into his coat.

"Don't be."

He rested his head against the top of her hair and just enjoyed the feeling of her in his arms. There had been so many times that he had thought that he would never be able to do that again. Last week was a prime example.

He clapped her on the back and broke away.

"Let's get back to Baker Street and await the wrath of an extremely angry John Watson," Sherlock said, his arm still around her shoulders.

Alex giggled and nodded as he called for a taxi.

_Meanwhile,_

At the National Antiquities Museum, Andy burst through the door following his supervisor, discussing (well more like pestering her about) Soo Lin Yao's resignation.

"She was right in the middle of an important restoration. Why would she suddenly resign?" Andy asked.

"Family problems, she said so in her letter," the supervisor explained patiently.

"But she doesn't have a family. She came to this country on her own," Andy pushed.

"Andy…" she tried to interrupt before he could start his rant again.

"Look, those teapots, those ceramics: they've become her obsession. She's been working on restoring them for weeks. I-I can't believe that she would just abandon them."

"Maybe she was getting a little bit of _unwanted_ attention," she said pointedly and continued through into the other room, leaving Andy stood on his own. He looked around and saw people hurriedly look away as he caught their eye.

* * *

Sherlock was stood at the mirror once again while Alex read her book, curled up in the armchair. A sudden loud slam startled her from her page and almost made her drop the book. She was about to say something when she saw John's angry face come in from the doorway, his fists clenched and his body stiff with supressed rage. _Like I probably looked like at school,_ Alex thought.

"You have been a while," Sherlock commented without turning around.

Alex winced. That probably wasn't the best thing to say, given that John began to purse his lips and breath in rather heavily. She slowly shut her book.

"Yeah, well, you know how it is. Custody sergeants don't really like to be hurried, do they?" John said with a mock smile, "Just formalities: fingerprints, charge sheet; and I've gotta be in Magistrates Court on Tuesday," John's voice got increasingly angrier the further he got on.

"What?" Sherlock asked absently and Alex just put her head into her hands._ For a genius, he sure is thick._

"Me, Sherlock, in court on Tuesday. They are giving me an ASBO!" he hissed angrily.

"Good. Fine," Sherlock waved off absentmindedly.

"You wanna tell your little pal he's welcome to go and own up any time," John said tightly.

"I will do it," Alex volunteered instantly. She would love to see that idiot with a long overdue ASBO. She still hadn't forgiven him for spray painting her bike so that it was covered in swear words when she was seven.

"This symbol: I still can't place it," Sherlock muttered.

John began to take off his jacket when Sherlock jogged over to him and pulled it back over his shoulders.

"Oi!" John shouted indignantly.

"No, I need you to go to the police station," Sherlock said as he pushed John out of the door, "ask about the journalist."

"Oh Jesus," John sighed exasperatedly.

"His personal effects will have been impounded. Get hold of his diary, or something that will tell us his movements," he pulled on his coat. "Coming Alex?"

Alex nodded and flinched as her back cracked when she stood up. Sherlock shook his head at her and handed her her coat. They walked out onto the street.

"Gonna go and see Van Coon's P.A. If we retrace their steps, somewhere they'll coincide," Sherlock ordered as he steered Alex down the street with him, leaving John to watch after them and snort at the situation as he hailed a cab.

"Scotland Yard," he told the driver of one that pulled up.

"Right," the driver nodded and John got in the back.

* * *

Sherlock and Alex stood in Van Coon's office with his Personal Assistant Amanda. Alex immediately took a liking to the woman, she reminded her of Molly a little bit. Amanda brought up Edward's diary on the computer.

"Flew back from Dalian Friday. Looks like he had back-to-back meetings with the sales team," she read out.

"Can you print me up a copy?" Sherlock asked.

"Sure," Amanda smiled.

"What about the day he died? Can you tell me where he was?"

"Sorry, no. There is a bit of a gap," Amanda apologised.

Alex craned her neck over Sherlock's shoulder and saw that there were no entries for Monday the 22nd. Sherlock jerked his head in frustration.

"But I have all of his receipts," Amanda compromised.

Alex smiled at her.

* * *

John stood at Scotland Yard with Detective Inspector Dimmock, rifling through Brian Lukis's possessions.

"Your friend-" Dimmock started.

"Listen: whatever you are about to say, I am with you one hundred percent," John interjected.

"He's an arrogant sod."

John actually looked quite surprised,

"Well that was mild," he remarked, "People usually say a lot worse than that."

Dimmock handed John a small notebook. John looked at it questioningly.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it? The journalist's diary?"

John took the diary and flicked through, skimming the pages until he got to the date he wanted. It was bookmarked with a boarding pass to Dalian DLC (Dalian Zhoushuizi International Airport) to London LHR (London Heathrow Airport) on Zhuang Airlines.

John smiled to himself and walked out of Scotland Yard.

* * *

Amanda helpfully spread out all of the receipts that she was able to find that belonged to Edward Van Coon all across the desk.

"What kind of a boss was he, Amanda? Appreciative?" Sherlock asked.

"Um, no. That's not a word I'd use. The only things Eddie appreciated had a big price tag," Amanda smiled somewhat sadly.

Alex looked at Sherlock, communicating her deduction with her eyes and he gave a subtle nod. Amanda was a little more than a PA to Van Coon. Sherlock kneeled down so that he was at an easier height to reach the receipts and motioned for Alex to do the same.

"Like that hand cream, he gave that to you didn't he?" Sherlock said.

Amanda looked startled but was saved from answering when Sherlock began to talk again.

"Look at this one. Got a taxi from home on the day he died. Eighteen pounds fifty," he said, holding up a receipt for Amanda and Alex to read.

"That would get him to the office," Amanda informed him.

"Not rush hour; check the time. Mid-morning. Eighteen would get him as far as…" Sherlock trailed off.

"The West End," Amanda picked up, "I remember him saying."

"Here," Alex called as she picked out a London Underground ticket with the same date on it and issued at Piccadilly.

Sherlock grinned at her and took it out of her hands.

"So he got a Tube back to the office. Why would he get a taxi into town and then the Tube back?" Amanda frowned.

"Because he was delivering something heavy. Didn't want to lug a package up the escalator," Sherlock explained.

"Delivering?"

"To somewhere near Piccadilly Station. Dropped the package, delivered it and then…" Sherlock picked up another receipt for Piazza Espresso Bar Italiano, "He got peckish."

Sherlock picked up the receipts that they needed and said goodbye to Amanda before walking briskly out of the office, his coat billowing behind him.

Amanda looked at Alex.

"Yeah… he does that," she said casually.

**Thank you for reading. Please review!**

**-Abby**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Hello! School has been a right pain in the backside lately so I might not be able to update every night because of the awful creation of exams that my school (prison) has concocted that I desperately need to revise for :(**

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**JessMusicNote**

**Kitten in the Shadows**

**Neela4232**

**2DamnFunky**

**For favouriting/following.**

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**Enjoy-**

_Previously:_

_Sherlock picked up the receipts that they needed and said goodbye to Amanda before walking briskly out of the office, his coat billowing behind him._

_Amanda looked at Alex._

_"Yeah… he does that," she said casually._

Alex picked up her coat and threw it over her shoulders.

"Thanks for your help Amanda," she smiled.

"No problem. I hope you don't mind me saying, but you seem a little… young to be doing something like this," Amanda said hesitantly.

"Oh it's fine, I get that quite a lot. I am sort of… well… in training of you like. Sherlock is my Uncle so he is teaching me to carry on the family legacy."

Amanda nodded and waved as Alex left the office hail a cab.

Alex picked up her mobile and dialled Sherlock's number. It rang multiple times before going onto voicemail. Alex frowned just as her phone vibrated.

**You know I prefer to text, now stop dawdling and meet me outside Piazza Espresso Bar Italiano - SH.**

**Where Edward Van Coon ate? - AH**

**No, where the muffin man lives. Of course it is where Van Coon ate. Stop asking infuriating questions and hurry up! - SH**

**Tetchy – AH**

Alex smirked as she received no reply and told the cab driver where to go. She'd had the last word.

**No you haven't – SH**

She looked at her mobile phone in disbelief. _How the hell did he do that?_

Alex pondered her Uncle's possible mind reading skill as the taxi ploughed on through the London traffic. It was rush hour and the cars were lined up, the whole road completely congested.

"Look, thanks for getting me so far, but I reckon that I will be quicker on foot now," she told the cab driver as she passed him a tenner, "Keep the change."

The cabbie gave her a smile and a thankful nod of the head as she climbed out. Alex put in her ear phones and pressed shuffle. She strained her ears for the any indication to what the random song might be and she grinned when she heard the unmistakably brilliant intro of _Echo Beach_ by Martha and the Muffins. Alex couldn't help but walk in time with the music.

_I know it's out of fashion_

_And a trifle uncool_

_But I can't help it_

_I'm a romantic fool_

_It's a habit of mine_

_To watch the sun go down_

_On Echo beach, I watch the sun go down_

She began to mouth the words, earning herself some amused looks from passer-bys, not that she particularly cared. The probability of seeing them again was next to none.

_From nine till five I have to spend my time at work_

_The job is very boring, I'm an office clerk_

_The only thing that helps pass the time away_

_Is knowing I'll be back at Echo Beach some day _

Alex scoffed. If only her life was boring. Then of course the universe would implode.

_On a silent summer evening_

_The sky's alive with light_

_Building in the distance_

_Surrealistic sight_

_On Echo Beach_

_Waves make the only sound_

_On Echo Beach_

_There's not a soul around_

She got ready for the chorus, barely noticing that she had almost reached her destination.

_From nine till five I have to spend my time at work_

_The job is very boring, I'm an office clerk_

_The only thing that helps pass the time away_

_Is knowing I'll be back at Echo Beach some-_

"Oomph," Alex grunted as walked directly into someone.

"Sorry-" she began to apologise before she saw whom she had crashed into. It seemed that it was a three way collision between Sherlock, John and her.

"Hello," she chirped brightly as she pocketed her earphones.

Sherlock ignored pleasantries and dived straight in with his findings,

"Eddie Van Coon brought a package here the day he died – whatever was hidden inside that case. I've managed to piece together a picture using scraps of information-"

"Sherlock," John interrupted.

"Credit card bills, receipts. He flew back from China, then he came here," Sherlock carried on, unfazed.

"Sherlock," John tried again.

"Somewhere in this street; somewhere near. I don't know where, but-"

"That street over there," John pointed over the road.

"How can you tell?" Sherlock frowned.

"Lukis' diary," John took out the said diary, "He was there too. He wrote down the address."

John took off across the road.

"Oh."

Alex laughed and patted his arm.

"Better luck next time 'Locky," she giggled cheekily and flounced after John.

"Damn teenagers and their mood swings," Sherlock muttered under his breath and followed them into the shop.

It was small and poky and filled with various different Chinese trinkets and decorations, definitely fitting in with the rest of China Town with the reds and yellows smothering the walls.

"Hello," John greeted the Shopkeeper politely.

"You want lucky cat?" she asked in broken English as she held up one of the golden cats.

Alex hid her smile at John's face.

"No, thanks. No."

"Ten pound. Ten pound!"

Even Sherlock was smirking now as he inspected the products on the shelf.

"No," he declined, smiling awkwardly.

"I think your wife, she will like!" the Shopkeeper persisted.

"No, thank you," John said for what he hoped to be the last time.

The Shopkeeper finally seemed to get the message and set down the lucky cat on the counter dejectedly. Alex felt sorry for the woman with the forlorn face and fished around in her pocket for a tenner.

"I will have it," she smiled, placing the money next to the cat.

The woman's face lit up and she scurried around for a bag.

"I am sorry. I have no bag," the old Chinese woman apologised.

"No problem, I will carry it," Alex reassured her and cradled the ornamental cat in her palm.

Sherlock rolled his eyes as his niece walked over to show him her purchase.

"You don't even like cats," he whispered in her ear.

Her smile dropped, "I know, I don't know why I got it," she admitted.

Sherlock smirked in amusement.

"You two," John called from the other side of the shop.

John flipped over one of the porcelain cups to show the same sort-of upside down eight with a line above it which was painted beside Sir William's portrait and on the library shelf on the underside of the cup.

Sherlock's face clouded with recognition and promptly left the shop, leaving John and Alex to run to catch up with him.

"It's an ancient number system! Hangzhou," Sherlock told them with a triumphant grin as John and Alex fell into step with him, "These days, only street traders use it. Those were numbers written on the wall at the bank and at the library."

He motioned to a stall that they were passing and saw that the price was written in English and then in Hangzhou, "Numbers written in an ancient Chinese dialect."

"It's a fifteen! What we thought was the artist's tag – it's a number fifteen," John said as he saw the English equivalent below the cipher.

"And the blindfold – the horizontal line? That was a number as well," Alex breathed.

"The Chinese number one," Sherlock smiled proudly.

"We've found it!" John laughed.

Alex laughed too, caught up in the chase. Sherlock ruffled her hair.

"Where are we actually going, Sherlock?" Alex asked.

"I don't actually know," he admitted.

"Well, can we get something to eat, I am starving and I reckon John is too."

John nodded his agreement.

Sherlock just rolled his eyes,

"Honestly, you both waste so much money on food."

"No I don't," Alex argued.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"I waste _your _money," she corrected, "And anyway, I usually don't eat much. Once every two to three days isn't much at all!"

John chuckled at the pair and dragged them both back by their coats into a café next to them. Alex immediately got the table near the window. John and Sherlock sat down with her.

"What are you doing?" Alex asked Sherlock as he fiddled with a napkin.

"Writing down the numbers."

Alex nodded and looked out of the window while John ordered for her and himself.

"So," John began as the waitress scurried away to get their food, "Two men travel back from China. Both head straight for the Lucky Cat emporium. What did they see?"

"It's not what they saw; it's what they both brought back in those suitcases," Sherlock muttered.

"And you don't mean duty free."

The waitress took that moment to return in record time. Alex frowned but suddenly understood as she caught the longing glance that she was sending his way.

"Thank you," he told her politely with a smile.

She blushed and tried to restrain a giggle.

Alex rolled her eyes.

"Think about what Sebastian told us; about Van Coon – about how he stayed afloat in the market," Sherlock turned to Alex, fully in teacher mode.

She resisted the urge to groan as she remembered their previous conversation that day.

"He lost five million."

"Made it all back in a week. That's how he made such easy money," Sherlock said.

"He was a smuggler!" John realised as he took a mouthful of food.

Alex looked down at her pancakes and shovelled a forkful into her mouth.

"A guy like him – it would have been perfect," Sherlock continued, "Business man making frequent trips to Asia. And Lukis was the same, a journalist writing about China."

"Both of them smuggled stuff out, and the Lucky Cat was their drop-off?" Alex looked at Sherlock for approval.

He nodded.

"But why did they die? I mean, it doesn't make sense. If they both turn up at the shop and deliver the goods, why would someone threaten them and kill them after the event, after they'd finished the job?" John asked in confusion.

Sherlock was silent but Alex had an idea. Not that she was going to share it of course. If she had thought of it before Sherlock had, then it had to be wrong.

"Alex, have any ideas?" he asked in his deep, baritone voice.

_How the bloody hell does he do that?!_

She coughed uncomfortably,

"Well… what if all the goods that were supposed to be delivered weren't there? What if one of them took something?" she asked hopefully.

Sherlock smirked at her,

"Perfect. A*," he praised.

Alex rolled her eyes but couldn't help her smile.

"And the killer doesn't know which of them took it, so he threatens them both. Right." John nodded, signalling that he understood.

Sherlock looked out of the window again and Alex went back to her regrettably mostly eaten food.

"Remind me, when was the last time it rained?"

Alex looked at him in confusion.

"What?"

Without a reply, Sherlock took off out of the café door, leaving Alex to look longingly at her pancakes but have to get up and leave with a sigh, John having already gone out with her Uncle.

She saw Sherlock bend down and trace his finger under the plastic wrapper and the damp, curled up corners of a yellow pages book propped up against somebody's door. She came over and kneeled next to him to get a proper look.

"It has been here since Monday," she said slowly.

Sherlock straightened up and rang the bell of a woman whose name tag says Soo Lin Yao. There was no answer for a few seconds before Sherlock rounded the corner and entered an alleyway. John seemed stuck for whom to stay or go with.

"Go with him, I will wait here in case somebody decides to answer. Then I can explain to them that Sherlock isn't a mass murderer or a burglar," Alex smiled and John jogged after Sherlock.

She stared at the door and debated ringing for a second time but decided against it. She looked through the windows for any sign of movement but Soo Lin had those weird shutter blind things. _Wow what a sentence, 'those shutter blind things' Shakespeare in the flesh, _Alex thought.

John then reappeared from the alleyway but without Sherlock.

"What are you doing? Where is Sherlock?" she asked.

"He is in there. Probably going to open the door soon," John replied.

"Why aren't you in there with him?"

John blushed slightly as he recalled trying to jump after Sherlock but his height let him down.

"He told me to wait with you," he lied to save himself more embarrassment.

Alex nodded unconvincingly and turned back to the letter box.

"Sherlock, you there?" she called through.

There was no reply.

"D'you think maybe you could let us in this time?" John tried.

There was still no answer.

"Can you please stop doing this!" he strained, his voice thick with frustration.

"I'm not the first," Sherlock's voice floated through the door.

Alex pressed her ear to the wall.

"What?"

"Somebody's been in here before me!"

"We can't hear you, what are you saying?" Alex asked.

There were a few minutes of silence.

Alex huffed and moved her head away from the wall, shrugging at John. He moved forward again and pushed the letterbox open again,

"_Any_ time you want to include us!"

Alex looked at John hopefully but he shook his head, indicating that he hadn't heard a reply.

"No, I'm Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone because no-one else can compete with my MASSIVE INTERLECT!" John shouted the last bit as he paced around.

Alex just leaned against the wall.

"Sherlock…" she drawled, knowing full well he couldn't hear her, "You are a big headed, arrogant, arse… who can't cook."

John sent her an amused look.

Sherlock took that moment to emerge and be faced with two extremely strong glares.

"The, uh, milk's gone off and the washing's starting to smell. Somebody left here in a hurry three days ago," Sherlock's voice was croaky and scratchy.

Alex looked at him with concern.

"Somebody?" John asked.

"Soo Lin Yao. We have to find her," Sherlock announced, his voice still gruff.

"But how, exactly?"

Sherlock held out an envelope that he had retrieved from the floor earlier.

"Maybe we could start with this," he said.

SOO LIN

Please ring me

tell me you're

OK

Andy

Alex took the paper and unfolded it. Sure enough, little print in the bottom corner read out,

NATIONAL

ANTIQUITIES

MUSEUM

"You've gone all croaky. Are you getting a cold?" John asked, the doctor in him shining out again as the three of them began to make their way to the museum.

"I am fine," Sherlock said but his well-timed cough proved otherwise.

"Sure?" Alex asked.

"Completely sure," he reassured her.

* * *

Once they reached the National Antiquities Museum, the first thing they did was get an interview with Andy in the main showing room.

"When was the last time that you saw her?" Sherlock asked.

Alex was grateful that his voice was back to normal.

"Three days ago, um, here at the museum," Andy answered nervously.

Alex zoned out slightly and began admiring the clay pots behind her. They seemed priceless. Only one of them shined through, the other two were dull and dusty. She snapped her attention back to the case only glancing back briefly at the pots.

"This morning they told me she'd resigned just like that," Andy spoke and Alex could hear the sadness underlying in his voice.

"Just left her work unfinished."

"What was the last thing that she did on her final afternoon?" Sherlock asked him as he turned from a display of artwork.

"She would have gone down to the basement archives. I could show you if you like?"

"That would be in order," Sherlock replied.

Andy nodded and lead them down numerous flights of stairs until they came to a long corridor with white vaults lined up against the wall.

"She does this demonstration for the tourists – a-a tea ceremony. So she would have packed up her things and just put them in here," he said, pointing into the vault.

John and Alex leaned in to look inside but Sherlock called them back over.

"Wh-" Alex began but stopped at the sight in front of her.

On a stand stood a life-sized sculpture of a woman. Yellow paint had been spray painted across the front of it. An almost horizontal straight line went across the eyes, and over the body had been sprayed the open upside down eight with the almost horizontal line above it. The cipher again.

Alex bit her lip.

* * *

Darkness had fallen as Sherlock, John and Alex emerged from the museum, a new goal in their sights.

"We need to find Soo Lin Yao," Sherlock stated.

"If she's still alive," John added sceptically.

Just then, a rough cockney voice split through the night air,

"Sherlock!" Raz shouted and Alex forced herself not to roll her eyes.

"Oh, look who it is," John muttered sarcastically as he watched Raz run over to them.

"Found something you'll like," Raz said to Sherlock, shooting Alex a wink.

She curled her top lip in disgust. Bike. Swear words. Case closed.

Raz jogged off down the steps with Sherlock, John and Alex following albeit slowly.

"I am guessing you don't really like him," John whispered to her.

"Your powers of deduction astound me," she retorted, but her joking tone took the venom out of it.

"You sounded just like Sherlock when you said that," he commented.

"Oh God forbid," she said in mock despair with her hand on her heart.

John chuckled and ruffled her hair, an unfortunate habit that he had picked up from Sherlock. Alex realised that they were crossing the Hungerford Bridge and ran to catch up with their scout.

"Where are you taking us?" she asked Raz.

He just gave her an annoying knowing smirk and tapped his nose.

John caught up to them,

"Tuesday morning, all you've gotta do is turn up and say the bag was yours," he told Raz.

"Oh forget about your court date," Sherlock snapped as they approached South Bank Skate Park.

Raz led them under, where all of the walls were spray painted within an inch of their life.

"If you wanna hide a tree in the middle of a forest, this is the best place to do it, wouldn't you say? People would just walk straight past, not knowing, unable to decipher the message," Sherlock grinned, oh this was getting really fun.

"There," Raz pointed to one of the graffitied walls, "I spotted it earlier."

Sure enough, among the mass of tags and doodles lay the yellow cipher showing the Chinese numbers.

"They _have_ been in here," Sherlock turned to Raz, "And that's the exact same paint?"

"Yeah," Raz nodded looking pleased with himself.

"John, Alex, if we're going to decipher this code, we're gonna need to look for more evidence," Sherlock declared and swooped off again.

Alex growled in frustration and, stifling a yawn, she set off after him.

* * *

"Sherlock wait!" she called tiredly as she ran to catch up with him along the train line.

"Hurry up then!" he threw over his shoulder, never breaking his long strides.

Alex managed to fall into step with him.

"What are we doing here?" she asked.

"Looking for more evidence."

Alex nodded and scouted the floor for anything that could be useful. A battered yellow spray can lay abandoned on the line. Alex ran to pick it up.

"Look!"

Sherlock took the can, giving his torch to Alex to hold. He turned it over and over in his hands and sniffed the nozzle.

"What _are_ you doing?" she asked, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

Sherlock just gave her a look as she stifled another yawn. He put the can in his inside coat pocket and straightened up.

"Onwards."

They carried on passed a poster covered wall and Sherlock ripped the corner of one of and stored it in his coat with the can. Alex felt her eyes drooping. She hadn't inherited the Holmes I-don't-sleep-for-days-then-hibernate-for-a-week-just-because-I-can. She stumbled on her feet and had to grab onto the wall to steady herself.

"Come on," Sherlock sighed, squatting down so that she could climb on his back, "Before you fall asleep standing and head butt an oncoming train or something similar."

Alex wrapped her arms around his neck as he stood up, taking her with him.

"Sounds like something I would do," she mumbled sleepily.

Sherlock gave a brief smile.

She buried her face in his scarf and relaxed against her Uncle.

"I could just get a cab back to Baker Street you know," she suggested.

"A murderer has already been in your room once, I am not letting you go back on your own," Sherlock said firmly.

"Can I sleep in your room tonight?" she asked meekly.

Sherlock nodded. Alex nuzzled her way further into his neck to find warmth as he trudged along the train line. She drifted in and out of consciousness, barely aware of anything but the soft material of her Uncle's coat when she heard John's voice.

"Answer your phone! I've been calling you! I've found it," he panted, clearly out of breath from running.

Alex had to quickly grasp onto the collar of Sherlock's coat to stop her from falling when he set off into a full out sprint, apparently forgetting about the half asleep girl clutching onto his back.

"Oh Alex, I didn't notice you there," Sherlock commented but showed no signs of slowing down.

"Yeah I figured," she giggled back to him. The feeling of going at that speed without actually moving her legs was quite exhilarating.

They came to an abrupt stop at a blank wall and Alex felt herself being lowered to her feet. She pouted, she was rather enjoying that.

**How was that? Okay?**

**Review!**

**-Abby**

**x**


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: Hello! Hope you are all enjoying the story so far!**

**Thank You to:**

**Deniecey**

** 25.11**

**jokerharley1980**

**for following/favouriting **

**Treble-extra-massive special huge thanks to: Rycbar15, Huntress111111 and E.I Cochrane for your lovely reviews. Waking up to them really made me smile :)!**

_Previously:_

_"Answer your phone! I've been calling you! I've found it," he panted, clearly out of breath from running._

_Alex had to quickly grasp onto the collar of Sherlock's coat to stop her from falling when he set off into a full out sprint, apparently forgetting about the half asleep girl clutching onto his back. _

_"Oh Alex, I didn't notice you there," Sherlock commented but showed no signs of slowing down._

_"Yeah I figured," she giggled back to him. The feeling of going at that speed without actually moving her legs was quite exhilarating. _

_They came to an abrupt stop at a blank wall and Alex felt herself being lowered to her feet. She pouted, she was rather enjoying that._

John looked at the wall in shock.

"It's been painted over!" John exclaimed as Sherlock shined his torch over the wall, "I don't understand. It-it was here. Ten minutes ago. I saw it. A whole load of graffiti!"

"Somebody doesn't want me to see it," Sherlock said and moved over to John. He grabbed the sides of his head in his hands.

"Hey, Sherlock, what are you doing?" John asked indignantly.

"Shush, John, concentrate. I need you to concentrate. Close your eyes."

"No, what? Why? Why?!"

Sherlock grabbed John's arms in a tight grip

"What are you doing?!" John asked again, confusion etched over his face.

Alex just propped herself up against the wall and tried not to nod off.

Sherlock began to spin John and him around slowly, staring fixedly into John's confused eyes.

"I need you to maximise your visual memory. Try to picture what you saw. Can you picture it?"

"Yeah."

"Can you remember it?"

"Yes, definitely," John said, certainty laced in his voice.

"Can you remember the pattern?" Sherlock pressed.

"Yes!" John cried.

"How _much_ can you remember it?"

"Well, don't worry-" John began but Sherlock cut him off.

"Because the average human memory on visual matters is only sixty-two percent accurate."

"Yeah, well, don't worry – I remember all of it," John reassured his friend.

"Really?" Sherlock asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, well at least I would," he wrestled free from Sherlock's spinning grasp, "if I can get to my pockets! I took a photograph."

He held out the phone to Sherlock to see and sure enough, the picture showed the wall was littered with many yellow ciphers.

Sherlock looked mildly embarrassed as John sighed and turned away. Alex just watched the scene, barely registering what was going on.

* * *

Back at 221B Baker Street, Alex was laid out on the couch, trying not to fall asleep while John was hardly succeeding at the dining room table. Sherlock, as usual, was wide awake and alert, staring at the pictures of the wall that had been printed out.

"Always in pairs," he said, startling John and Alex out of their almost asleep state.

"Hmm?" John squinted up at him.

"Numbers come with partners."

"God, I need to sleep," John muttered blankly.

Alex nodded

"Why did he paint it so near the tracks?" Sherlock asked to himself more than anyone else.

"No idea," Alex answered, snuggling her face further into the not-quite-comfortable-but-good-enough couch.

"Thousands of people pass by there every day."

Alex ignored him, waving her hand for John to take over.

"Just twenty minutes," he murmured back, his hand propping his head up.

Alex rolled her eyes and pulled herself up to a sitting position. Sherlock would probably throw a harpoon out of the window if they missed him being clever because they were _both_ asleep.

"Of course!" Sherlock exclaimed, making Alex and John jump, "He wants information. He's trying to communicate with his people in the underworld. Whatever was stolen, he wants it back," he began to run his fingers over the photograph, "Somewhere here in the code…"

He suddenly ripped the photos off the wall, causing Alex to jump again.

"We can't crack this without Soo Lin Yao," Sherlock declared as he spun on his heel, papers in hand, and dashed out of the door.

"Oh good," John drawled sarcastically.

Alex sent him an amused look,

"Come on," she said, holding out her hand.

He took it and allowed her to haul him to his feet.

"You are stronger than you look," he commented.

She smiled tiredly and motioned for John to lead the way after Sherlock.

* * *

A wide awake Sherlock, a less awake Alex and a completely exhausted John stood in the museum with Andy in the same display room that they had first met him in.

"Two men who travelled back from China were murdered, and their killer left them messages in the Hangzhou numerals," Sherlock told him seriously.

"Soo Lin Yao's in danger. Now, that cipher – it was just the same pattern as the others. He means to kill her as well," John continued.

"Look, I've tried everywhere: um, friends, colleagues. I-I don't know where she's gone. I mean, she could be a thousand miles away," Andy stuttered desperately.

Sherlock's gaze drifted from Andy to something just over his shoulder.

"Uncle Sherlock? What are you looking at?" Alex asked.

"Tell me more about those teapots," Sherlock said to Andy as he walked over to the cabinet bearing the artefacts.

"Th-the pots were her obsession. Um, they need urgent work. If-if they dry out, then the clay can start to crumble. Apparently you have to just keep making tea in them."

Sherlock leaned in closer to the glass, his breath fogging it up.

"Yesterday, only one of those pots was shining. Now there are two."

Alex's eyes widened in realisation. _Of course._

"Awfully good of you to help us Andy," Sherlock said with a smile as he shook Andy's hand.

"O-oh, that is fine. Aren't you going to find out where she is?" Andy asked in confusion.

"Oh yes! We have a few leads that suggest that she may be in Cardiff. We are heading over there now aren't we John," Sherlock said, a huge smile still plastered onto his face.

John looked at him with a blank expression. Sherlock gave him the subtlest of nods as Andy's full attention turned on John.

"Um… Yes, yes. Cardiff, yes," he said unconvincingly.

Alex almost face-palmed but sagged with relief when Andy nodded, taking their word for it and turned to walk back to his desk. Alex twisted to face her Uncle.

"What are you doing?"

He just infuriatingly tapped his nose and motioned for John and her to follow him back through the entrance and onto the concrete path. Instead of going down the steps into the morning rush, he turned a sharp left into the alleyway where they had encountered Raz painting his masterpiece 'Urban Bloodlust Frenzy'. Sherlock stooped to a worn and old looking door.

"Sherlock, what-" John began but was cut off by the sound of his friend ripping the door off its hinges.

Alex and John looked at him with blank shock.

"Oh come on, it was rotting away, it was hardly a difficult feat," Sherlock scoffed.

He climbed in and as his shoes disappeared, there was a moment of silence. Just as Alex was about to go and see if he was okay, his head popped out from where he had just disappeared.

"Are you coming then?" he asked rudely.

John rolled his eyes and followed him in. Alex stood in the morning air alone and contemplated following them. She could go back to the flat and have a nap for a while. But then she remembered Sherlock's words earlier about having a murderer in her room and that idea was instantly shot down. Just as she had decided that she would go and visit Molly, a sudden movement caught her eye. A Chinese woman with a camera peeped from around the corner and a large flash blinded Alex for a moment as the camera captured a picture of her.

"Hey!" she shouted heatedly and skidded around the corner to confront the woman. However, all she was met with was thin air. The woman had simply disappeared.

"What the hell?" Alex muttered.

She scanned the area. Not many people were around since it was early morning, only workers piling into the buildings surrounding the square. Alex spun around, her hair whipping wildly behind her to try and see the mysterious lady.

It wasn't like there was anything behind her at the time that the woman could be taking a picture of like an innocent tourist. She was the only thing in that dusty alleyway so the only thing the woman could have been snapping a picture of was Alex.

Suddenly, to left of her, Alex saw someone in a hoodie, pocketing a camera that seemed identical to the Chinese woman's. She could see black hair poking out from under the hood and made a snap decision. She bolted off across street over to next to the benches and pulled back the hood of the woman.

Only it wasn't the woman. It wasn't even _a _woman. It was a teenage boy. A very pissed off teenage boy. Scratch that, a very _very _pissed off teenage boy.

"What do you think you are doing?!" he fumed.

Alex stuttered, "Uh… um…"

She saw that he was getting increasingly more angry.

"See, I was just checking… because you look like a friend of mine and- and I wanted to," Alex began but saw that the boy was having none of it, "No? Not going to work?" she sighed, "Plan B."

Alex took off at a sprint and sensed the youth close behind her. She slipped into the alleyway and dived into the small door that Sherlock and John had gone through. Because her turn was so sudden, the boy had to double back as he missed it. That gave her time to disappear without him seeing where to.

She felt cold metal on her palms as she shimmied down a thin narrow pipe. It was completely pitch black and I don't mean a-little-bit-dark-but-okay or even dark-but-can-make-out-faint-outlines, I mean this-is-bloody-fricking-dark-I-can't-see-a-hand-in-front-of-me.

"Uncle Sherlock," she whispered into the dark.

There was no reply. She carried on shimmying.

"Uncle Sh-"

Suddenly, the floor fell from beneath her hands as she recoiled to scurry backwards.

"Sherlock?" she called again.

"Just drop, it isn't far, I will catch you," her Uncle's deep voice commanded.

"No way," she immediately refused.

"Alex," he said a little bit sterner.

She groaned and placed her hand down the hole. She felt around on the dark and jumped when she felt Sherlock's curly hair entwined in her fingers.

"You better catch me," she warned.

"I promise."

Alex nodded, blew out a breath and slid down into the darkness. She fell only for a second before she felt Sherlock's strong arms wrap around her waist and under her knees.

"Told you," he said and she could almost hear his smirk.

"Where are we?" she asked as he set her down.

"In a disused cleaner's cupboard," she heard John mutter bitterly.

Alex felt Sherlock grip onto her wrist so as not to lose her in the dark.

"And what exactly are we doing here?" she asked.

"We need to wait. Soo Lin Yao has been back here to the museum in the last day: you saw those pots. We need to be patient and stay in here so we won't get kicked out by security when the museum closes," Sherlock explained.

"But closing time isn't until nine o'clock tonight," Alex reminded him.

"Yes um…" he began sheepishly, "Well, she will most likely wait for cover of darkness to get in."

Alex groaned.

"Uncle Sherlock, it is early morning. We are going to be waiting here all day!"

"That is exactly what I have just been saying," John grumbled.

"What are we going to do for food?"

"Oh I brought snacks for you two," Sherlock defended as he rustled around in his pockets and pulled out two lunch boxes full to the brim of food.

"How the hell did you get all of this?!" Alex exclaimed as she pulled out her mobile and shone the camera light into the room.

"Let me guess," she interrupted before her Uncle could begin, "Homeless network."

Sherlock nodded proudly at his homeless network. They came in so handy.

"How come they don't have enough money for a council flat, yet they bring you a three course meal every time you ask for it?"

"I do plenty for them," he sniffed.

"Yeah, you gave them my MP3 player," Alex muttered.

"Oh get over that will you," Sherlock said as he sank to the floor, bringing Alex down with him.

She squirmed in his grasp to face him,

"No, I was seven and it was my pride and joy and you gave it to a drugged up alcoholic!"

"What happened?" John asked with an amused smile as he also sat down opposite her.

"Well, he was on a case and I was at home. I didn't really go out on them that much when I was younger, only to Lestrade or Molly. Anyway, I was at home in the old flat watching telly, when _this _oaf," she pointed to Sherlock, "blunders in shouting about music. I was of course used to his outbursts of weirdness and just patted his head and turned back to the TV. The next thing I know, I hear the door slam and I go up into my bedroom and find my whole bedroom ransacked. I obviously didn't know what had been taken so I just put everything back and thought nothing more of it. The next day, I went shopping with Molly and as we were walking down the street, this homeless man barges into me and drops whatever he was carrying. I naturally picked his stuff back up when I found a purple MP3 player amongst his stuff. I shrugged it off, I mean how many purple MP3 players are there in the world? But as I handed it back, I saw a label saying PROPERTY OF ALESSANDRA HOLMES on the back of it. That narrowed the field considerably. When I asked him where I got it, he told me that he had given it to a curly haired lunatic with a long coat. Hm, I wonder who that could be?" she asked in mock thought, looking at Sherlock questioningly, "Got any ideas, dear Uncle?"

"It helped _solve _a murder!" he cried.

"Yes, and it also nearly_ caused_ your murder!"

John just looked on at the scene in glee. They really were quite the comedy duo.

Sherlock and Alex huffed in sync.

There were a few minutes of silence.

"I bet you can't beat my high score on flappy bird," Alex commented casually.

"Game on," he answered immediately and grabbed her phone.

The unmistakable tune filled the poky cupboard.

"Hey John, the game really is on," Alex giggled.

John full out laughed.

Needless to say, the next few hours consisted of almost tears, much swearing and a lot of supressed laughter. And that was just separating the lunch out evenly.

**Bit of something to lighten the mood.**

**Drop a review to let me know if you like this story so far.**

**-Abby**

**X**


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Hello again my lovely, loyal readers :) Hope you all are well.**

**As I expressed earlier, I (among other people I know) find the Blind Banker to be a little bit more boring than the other episodes. Therefore, I have decided to add my own little spin at the end of the chapter to liven things up a bit (hopefully).**

**Thank you to:**

**lostfeather1**

**lightningmanatee**

**greysoth4ever**

**bookaddict209**

**for following/favouriting.**

**Enormous virtual cookie thank you to: E.I Cochrane (no problem :) x) , bookaddict209 (haha, I am really glad you like it! x) , GottaLoveTen (I have lost half of my life thanks to that bloody game haha! x) , and again to rycbar15 (Thank you for being supportive of every chapter that I post. It really makes it all worthwhile :) x)**

**Enjoy: **

_Previously-_

_"I bet you can't beat my high score on flappy bird," Alex commented casually._

_"Game on," he answered immediately and grabbed her phone. _

_The unmistakable tune filled the poky cupboard._

_"Hey John, the game really is on," Alex giggled._

_John full out laughed. _

_Needless to say, the next few hours consisted of almost tears, much swearing and a lot of supressed laughter. And that was just separating the lunch out evenly._

Sherlock had his face almost squashed against the phone as he tapped and tapped and tapped and tapped and tapped-

"NO!" he wailed.

He threw it down.

He looked at it.

Picked it back up and tapped and tapped and tapped.

That was basically the vicious cycle that had snatched Sherlock Holmes from his sanity. Alex watched in amusement at first but then her eyes began to droop. She tried to lean against her Uncle but his sudden movements and cries of despair proved to be counterproductive. She shuffled over to where John was dozing and rested her head on his shoulder. His jumper was warm and comfortable and being asleep meant that one did not lurch and spasm every two seconds to save a flying bird like a certain detective opposite her.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked her, never taking his eyes off the screen.

"Sleeping," she muttered back.

"On John?"

"Yes… he is my friend. Like he is your friend," Alex said slowly.

Sherlock's lips twitched upwards.

"I am glad you like him."

"It would just be cruel if I didn't. We would have to get rid of the only person (save me) that can handle you," she whispered cheekily.

Her head went heavy as she sunk into unconsciousness. As Sherlock died for the seventy seventh time, he flipped up the camera app and tapped capture. He looked at his handy work and saw an adorable picture of Alex and John asleep with Alex's head lolled onto John's shoulder. The two looked particularly cute. Suddenly, a small rustle was heard. It was now ten twenty seven. All of the visitors and workers had left hours ago.

"John, Alex," Sherlock prodded them awake.

"Wh-" he clamped a hand over Alex's mouth and brought a finger to his lips.

A scuffle was heard again.

"Soo Lin Yao?" John whispered.

Sherlock nodded and carefully walked over to the door at the other side of the room. As gently as he could, he lifted up the metal latch and winced as it creaked slightly. The scuffling continued unaware however. Sherlock inched the door open, allowing a thin glimmer of light to seep through into the dim room. He held up his hand in the universal signal for stop at John and Alex. They nodded and stayed put as Sherlock pressed himself as far as he could to the wall and slipped out of the room.

Sure enough, sat alone in the dark of the museum, was Soo Lin Yao working on her tea pots. She poured the tea over the pot and watched as it cascaded over the material. She swilled the rest around, the only noise that of gently whooshing water.

Sherlock stepped out of the shadows and stalked over to her. Just as she picked the tea pot back up, he decided to speak.

"Fancy a biscuit with that?"

Soo Lin Yao screamed in despair and the tea pot fell from her quaking fingers. Sherlock reacted instantly and bent down on one knee to catch the artefact in the palm of his hand without spilling a single drop of the tea that it held inside of it.

"Centuries old. Don't wanna break that," he said.

He slowly straightened up from his crouched position and handed the teapot back to her. She hesitantly held out her hand and took it, seemingly weighing him up in her mind as he reached out and flicked a switch on the desk, turning on the lights underneath. He smiled slightly at her.

"Hello."

He suddenly sighed.

"John, Alex, you can come out now," he drawled as the two figures emerged from their hidden position of behind the doorway.

"She told me to," John said instantly, pointing at Alex.

Sherlock's accusing eyes turned to his niece.

"I heard a scream," she defended.

Her Uncle rolled her eyes and turned back to Soo Lin Yao. As John and Alex walked over to them both, Alex muttered,

"Snitch."

John just ruffled her hair as they sat down opposite Soo Lin Yao on the table.

"You saw the cipher. Then you know he is coming for me," she said grimly.

"You've been clever to avoid him so far," Sherlock complemented.

"I had to finish ... to finish this work. It's only a matter of time. I know he will find me."

Alex felt a huge surge of sympathy for the young woman.

"Who is he? Have you met him before?" Sherlock asked.

She nodded, "When I was a girl, living back in China. I recognise his ... 'signature'," Soo Lin cringed at the word.

"The cipher," Alex said softly.

"Only _he_ would do this. Zhi Zhu," she sucked in a sharp breath and Alex felt a sudden shiver, like someone had just walked over her grave.

"Zhi Zhu?" John frowned.

"The Spider."

Soo Lin lifted up her foot and rested in on her opposite knee. She untied her shoes laces and pulled down the back to reveal a sheer black tattoo of a lotus flower inside a circle on her heel.

"You know this mark?" she asked Sherlock.

"Yes. It's the mark of a Tong," he said.

"Hm?" John and Alex asked at the same time.

"Ancient crime syndicate based in China."

John nodded.

"Every foot soldier bears the mark; everyone who hauls for them," Soo Lin's face flashed with regret.

"'Hauls'?"

Soo Lin just looked at him sadly as his eyes widened in recognition.

"You-you mean _you_ were a smuggler?" he asked in disbelief.

Soo Lin looked down in shame,

"I was fifteen. My parents were dead. I had no livelihood; no way of surviving day to day except to work for the bosses."

"Who are they?" Sherlock questioned.

"They are called the Black Lotus. By the time I was sixteen, I was taking thousands of pounds' worth of drugs across the border into Hong Kong. But I managed to leave that life behind me. I came to England," she smiled briefly; "They gave me a job here. Everything was good; a new life."

"Then he came looking for you," Sherlock deduced. Alex felt that feeling again but shook it off as the cold autumn nights.

Soo Lin's eyes filled with unshed tears as she gave a small nod.

"I had hoped after five years maybe they would have forgotten me, but they never really let you leave. A small community like ours – they are never very far away," she continued tearfully, "He came to my flat. He asked me to help him to track down something that was stolen."

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Alex's neck stood up on end and she looked over her shoulder. She could almost feel eyes burning the back of her head, but the room was just empty in the darkness.

"And you've no idea what it was?" John asked Soo Lin, referring to the stolen item.

She shook her head, "I refused to help."

John leaned further forward onto the desk.

"So you knew him well when you were living back in China?" he asked.

"Oh yes," she looked up at Sherlock, "He is my brother. Two orphans. We had no choice. We could work for the Black Lotus, or starve on the streets like beggars. My brother has become their puppet; in the power of the one they call Shan – the Black Lotus general. I turned my brother away. He said I had betrayed him. Next day I came to work and the cipher was waiting."

Alex felt the need to run. There was something wrong. Very wrong. She could sense it. Sherlock picked up on his niece's agitation but put it aside for the moment. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the photographs of the ciphers on the wall near the train tracks that had previously been stuck to the mirror. He laid them on the table.

"Can you decipher these?" he asked, watching Soo Lin keenly.

She leaned over to get a better view of the pictures.

"These are numbers," she said.

"Yes, I know."

"Here," she pointed to one of the photos, "the line across the man's eyes – it's the Chinese number one."

"And this one is the number fifteen," Sherlock said, pointing to a different one, "But what's the code?" he pressed.

"All of the smuggler's know it. It's based upon a book-"

The lights suddenly cut out, plunging them all into darkness. Alex instinctively groped around for Sherlock, him unbeknownst to her, doing the same. He caught onto her wrist and pulled her to him.

"He's here. Zhi Zhu. He has found me," Soo Lin whispered softly, her feminine tones laced with terror.

Sherlock promptly pushed Alex into John for him to keep safe and dashed out around the door.

"Sh-Sherlock. Sherlock, wait!" John called as he was delivered with a teenage girl.

"Uncle Sherlock!" she shouted.

John circled his arm around Alex's shoulders and grabbed Soo Lin's hand.

"Come here."

He pulled the two across the room rapidly and into a store cupboard.

"Get in. Get in!"

Alex fell in after Soo Lin.

Sherlock sprinted across the large open foyer with a staircase at each end and a grand balcony surrounding the floor above. He stopped in the middle of the floor and whipped his head around, looking for Zhi Zhu. Suddenly, flying from the right, a figure ran across the balcony and fired a pistol at Sherlock. Sherlock span on his heel and bolted in the opposite direction, flinging himself to the floor and sliding along it to take shelter behind a statue. Sharp cracks whistled through the air as more bullets were whizzed around in his direction. He was mercifully guarded by the statue to be in the firing line.

John's head snapped up to the sound of gunfire and his eyes took on a steely glint. He turned to the girls.

"I have to go and help. Bolt the door after me," John said urgently in hushed tones.

As he turned to bolt after Sherlock, Alex caught hold of his sleeve.

"Be careful," she told him, staring intently into his eyes.

He nodded and squeezed her hand before taking flight out of the cupboard. Alex did as she was told and pulled the stiff bolt across on the door. She turned to Soo Lin.

"Don't worry. They will sort it out," she grinned, "They are the best."

Soo Lin smiled, but Alex noticed that the smile had an echo of sadness around it.

"You are a kind girl."

Alex sat down next to her and propped her back up against one of the unused desks. Soo Lin faced her seriously.

"And that is why you have to stay."

Alex frowned at her in confusion.

"What do you mean? We are both staying here."

Soo Lin shook her head.

"He will not give up. I will never be free again. I have to go," Soo Lin said, her eyes glistening.

Alex's eyes widened and her hand shot out to pull the young woman back.

"No, stay here. Uncle Sherlock and John _will _sort it out. They will catch your brother and you will be free," Alex tried to convince her.

"If only that were true," Soo Lin shook her head sadly.

"Soo Lin, listen to me. Stay right here and don't go out there," Alex hissed.

She flinched as another gunshot rang through the air and she could only hope that Sherlock and John were okay.

Soo Lin placed a cold and trembling hand against Alex's cheek.

"好好活著, 英語寶石," she whispered and prised her wrist out of Alex's now slack grip. She watched as the young woman walked slowly to the cupboard door and step out. The door slammed shut and Alex was trapped in a sickening silence.

Soo Lin Yao stood behind her desk in the restoration room. A small breeze caused the papers on the desk to lick up delicately and fall again like the rising of a chest. She took a shuddering breath and turned to face her brother.

"亮," she greeted tenderly, "大哥."

She traced his face with her hand affectionately, her own face turning desperate.

"请你," she pleaded softly.

Alex screwed her eyes shut as she heard the fatal shot. She clamped her hands over her ears and tried to block it out. Soo Lin Yao was dead.

John stopped still in the corridor that he was in when he heard the crack. His head snapped to the direction of the sound (reflexes learnt in the army) and his face fell.

"Oh my God," he murmured in horror as he barrelled towards the restoration room, Sherlock catching up beside him. They burst through the doors and found Soo Lin Yao sprawled out on the floor, a black origami lotus flower in her pale, lifeless upturned palm.

"Alex?" Sherlock called.

John suddenly realised what Sherlock was thinking.

"Alex?" he also shouted.

Sherlock turned to John with plain panic on his face,

"Where did you hide them?" he asked intensely.

"Uh… I," it had all happened so fast.

Sherlock shook his friend's shoulders roughly.

"John! Where did you put her?!" Sherlock's voice went up an octave.

"In the cupboard!" he cried back as his mind began to work again.

Sherlock sped off to the cupboard behind the screens and kicked in the door.

"Alex?!" he bellowed.

He scurried around behind shelves and statues, his hands shaking before he made out the shape of his beloved niece huddled behind a desk. He bent down and kneeled in front of her.

"Alex?" he said gently.

She seemed to snap out of her reverie.

"Sh-she is dead isn't she?" she whispered in a small voice.

John came and stood at Sherlock's shoulder, immensely relieved that the girl didn't have a scratch on her. He nodded solemnly.

"I knew. She t-talked to me. She said what she was going to do," Alex's voice became louder and faster, "I couldn't stop her! I couldn't! I tried! Oh my God I tried! SHE WOULDN'T STOP! I TOLD HER LIKE I TOLD MUM! THEY NEVER STOP! SHE WAS ON THE LAST STEP OF THE LADDER AND THE ROPE WAS THERE! I TOLD HER TO STOP, BUT SHE JUST JUMPED. MUM JUMPED AND SOO LIN JUST WALKED OUT! I TRIED BUT IT IS NEVER ENOUGH!" Alex screamed hysterically. Sherlock enveloped his arms around the quaking girl as her body racked with sobs. He held her as close as he could and rested his chin on the top of her head as he rocked on his heels, Alex's moans muffled by Sherlock's coat.

John just looked on, trying to keep the tears out of his eyes. The situation was bad enough, but to watch a broken teenager sat there with her heart ripped out was physically agonizing.

"I will call a taxi," he said and Sherlock sent him a grateful glance before going back to muttering nonsense to his Alex.

In one swift motion, he had his niece safe in his arms and carried her out after John. The taxi didn't take long at all to arrive and soon they were back in Baker Street. Sherlock carried Alex upstairs and onto the couch while John got her duvet off her bed to drape over her. Her wails had subsided to sniffles as she exhausted herself. Sherlock sat on the floor by her head and continued to soothe her until her sniffles stopped all together and her breathing regulated, signalling sleep.

"That was heart breaking," John uttered from his position at the foot of the sofa.

"I suppose she has been bottling it up for a long time," Sherlock replied as he smoothed down Alex's hair.

"Did she grieve over her mother when she was little," John asked tentatively. He understood that it was a sensitive topic.

"Not as much as she should have done I suppose. Just the nightmares that sometimes got her upset when she first when to live with Mycroft. I don't think that it is actually losing Maybelline that is the problem, she got over that. It is the fact that she blames herself," Sherlock muttered quietly.

"Why would she blame herself?" John asked incredulously.

"When Mycroft told you that Alex found her mother, she did more than that. Maybelline did it in front of her. You heard Alex's outburst, 'she was on the last step of the ladder and the rope was there'. Alex was terrified and she just froze. By the time she had some to her senses, her mother was slowly dying and Alex couldn't undo the knot in the rope. You should have seen the state of her fingers, they were raw and bleeding," Sherlock's voice warbled but he was immensely glad that it didn't crack.

"She was six," John breathed and had to grab onto the couch to steady himself.

Sherlock nodded forlornly and went back to running the backs of his knuckles up Alex's arm, just to reassure her in her sleeping state that she wasn't alone.

"What are we going to do to this Black Lotus people then?" John asked.

Sherlock took a long look at Alex's pale face,

"Kill them," he muttered fiercely and strode out of the door, his coat billowing majestically behind him.

John patted Alex's leg and followed, both of them spurred on to catch the bastards.

**Bit of drama there! I feel really mean for making Alex go through that! Oh well, plenty of cheer up Sherlock to come so that should make it up for her.**

**Review!**

**-Abby**

**X**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock and I don't have Steven Moffat tied up in my wardrobe to write what I tell him to. Honestly!**

**Author's Note: Hello again! I seriously didn't think when I started this fanfiction that I would get the response that I have got so thank you so much! Phew chapter fourteen then... **

**Individual Thank Yous will now go at the end of the chapters**

**Enjoy-**

_Previously: _

_Sherlock nodded forlornly and went back to running the backs of his knuckles up Alex's arm, just to reassure her in her sleeping state that she wasn't alone._

_"What are we going to do to this Black Lotus people then?" John asked._

_Sherlock took a long look at Alex's pale face,_

_"Kill them," he muttered fiercely and strode out of the door, his coat billowing majestically behind him._

"Mrs Hudson!" Sherlock called as he jogged down the stairs.

The old woman came tottering out of her flat with a tea towel draped over her shoulder.

"Yes dear?" she asked pleasantly.

"I need you to watch Alex for a while, John and I are going out. She won't be any trouble, she is just asleep," Sherlock explained.

"Oh don't worry, I will look after her. You two go out and enjoy yourselves, I know a particularly romantic Italian just down the road," she said with a knowing smile.

Sherlock (as usual) didn't try to correct her.

"No, we aren't, seriously… why do I even bother?" John muttered as he followed Sherlock out of the door.

Mrs Hudson sighed fondly at her two boys. Mrs Turner next door had married ones; she hoped that there might be a happy announcement in her _own_ flat sometime soon. She locked her door and steadily hobbled up the stairs with one hand on her hip. The blasted thing had been throbbing all morning.

She fiddled with the keys and fitted them into the lock on the flat above's door. She pushed it open and immediately frowned at the mess. Books and papers were scattered everywhere and Mrs Hudson did not even want to _look_ in the fridge. Or even the kitchen for that matter. Somewhere amongst the clutter laid a small sleeping teenage girl. Mrs Hudson shuffled over to Alex and began to rearrange the blankets and pillows.

"Honestly those boys. When she wakes up, she will have a crick in her neck! Poor dear. I need to make more meals for her. No Mrs Hudson. You are _not _their housekeeper," Mrs Hudson rambled to herself as she busied herself with the imperative job of keeping Alex comfortable.

* * *

John scampered after Sherlock as he flagged down a cab.

"Scotland Yard," Sherlock ordered. The driver nodded once and John barely had time to shut the door behind him before the car jerked into life, its engine spluttering at the sudden ignition. Soon, the old looking car was chucking down the road at a _very impressive speed_.

"Next time, I pick the taxi," John whispered to Sherlock so as not to offend the driver.

"I was in a rush," Sherlock mumbled.

John sat back and watched as the cocker spaniel that had been walking behind him as he left Baker Street actually overtook them.

"This is ridiculous."

Sherlock made a face and pretended to imitate John in a high pitched voice.

"Next time I pick taxis, Sherlock your thumbs are in the microwave, Sherlock we don't need any more milk, Sherlock you cannot go on my laptop, Sherlock you haven't moved all day, feelings Sherlock, bit not good Sherlock, nag, nag, nag, nag, nag. You are the wife of the household."

John rolled his eyes as they pulled eventually pulled up at Scotland Yard. The driver actually gave John an apologetic glance as if to say 'out of all of the drivers with competent cars in the whole of London, you had to pick me.' John shrugged it off and raised an eyebrow as the cab stalled and stuttered down the tarmac. Sherlock impatiently grabbed him by the cuff of his jacket and pulled him into the station. They approached the main desk and Sherlock just barged past the woman there as she opened her mouth to speak. She gave him a look of disbelief of his lack of manners (which he pointedly ignored of course).

"I am sorry about him," John apologised, "We are here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade- I mean Detective Inspector Dimmock."

The stern faced woman gave a small nod and motioned behind her.

"Well there you go, your boyfriend seems to know the way," the woman said, her lips pressed into a thin line in displeasure.

John didn't even try to dispute the term boyfriend and settled for a sheepish grin as he sidestepped the policewoman and entered Detective Inspector Dimmock's office. Inside, Dimmock himself began to busy himself with various useless papers and files, basically trying to ignore Sherlock.

"How many murders is it gonna take before you start believing that this maniac's out there?" John asked angrily, the man's attitude ticking him off, "A young girl was gunned down tonight. That's three victims in three days. You're supposed to be finding him."

Dimmock continued to ignore them both and flicked through a blue folder. Sherlock felt it his time to intervene and leaned in towards Dimmock threateningly,

"Brian Lukis and Eddie Van Coon were working for a gang of international smugglers – a gang called the Black Lotus operating here in London right under your nose."

"Can you prove that?" Dimmock asked snobbishly.

Sherlock straightened up and gave him a look of loathing and turned on his heel out of the door. John ran to get in front of him and flagged down a decent cab. John gave Sherlock a smug look as the vehicle smoothly halted and didn't make the questionable grinding noise of the previous one.

"Where to mate?" the driver asked.

"St Bartholomew's Hospital," Sherlock ordered as he slipped in.

"Why are we going to Bart's?" John enquired.

Sherlock turned to him from where he was looking out of the window at the passing buildings,

"To get Lukis and Van Coon's bodies. Hopefully, they should both have the mark of the Tong," Sherlock explained.

John nodded and silence fell over the car for a few moments.

"Sherlock?"

"Hm?"

"Where do you know all of this stuff from?" John queried.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock furrowed his brow in confusion.

"All of this. The mark of the Tong. How could you have _known_ that you would _need_ to know that? If that makes any sense at all."

"You are right John, that didn't make any sense at all," Sherlock commented casually.

John exhaled,

"What I mean is, how can you seem to know absolutely everything?"

"Because I _do_ know everything," Sherlock said smugly.

"Sherlock," John groaned.

Sherlock smirked, "I have a mind palace."

John looked at him blankly.

"A mind _palace_?"

"Yes," Sherlock said simply, not seeing what the big issue was.

"Like a Roman Room?"

"Oh that horrible name for it. Like I said, Mind Palace, it sounds more majestic. I store the things that I need in certain files and rooms so whenever I may need them, all I need to do is go to that file or room and everything will be there," Sherlock finished.

John looked at him in astonishment.

"I thought you were all out of surprises," he breathed.

"Well," Sherlock drawled, "Where is the fun in that?"

John just shook his head at him with a smile as the taxi pulled up outside St Bart's.

The boys walked up to the canteen (where Sherlock had deduced that Molly would be) and Sherlock put his hand on John's chest.

"Wait here," he ordered as he swanned off toward Molly who was looking at the specials board. He knew that John would definitely not agree with his methods of getting Molly to co-operate.

"What are you thinking: pork or the pasta?" he asked her from behind.

Molly jumped in surprise and jerked around to see her crush.

"Oh, it's you!" she exclaimed, her whole face brightening.

"This place is never going to trouble Egon Ronay, is it?" Sherlock remarked with an actual smile and nodded toward the board, "I'd stick with the pasta. Don't wanna be doing roast pork – not if you're slicing up cadavers."

Molly licked her lips nervously. He was actually having a conversation with her and smiling. _Smiling!_

"What are you having?" she inquired.

"I do not eat when I'm working. Digesting slows me down."

She perked up once again,

"So you're working here tonight?" she asked in what she hoped was a nonchalant tone of voice.

"Need to examine some bodies," Sherlock replied airily.

"'Some?'"

"Eddie Van Coon and Brian Lukis."

Molly looked down at the clipboard that she was holding and skimmed down it. She knew she had heard those names before.

"They're on my list."

Sherlock turned to her, switching on his most innocent and pleading face.

"Could you wheel them out again for me?" he asked in a meek voice.

"Well… the paperwork has already gone through," she started apologetically.

Sensing that he would have to take a different approach, he quickly switched his tactic and scooted his eyes up to Molly's hairline.

"You've ... changed your hair," he pointed out.

"W-what?" she stuttered nervously.

"The style: it's usually parted in the middle."

"Yes, well…" she trailed off lamely.

"Mm, it's good; it, um, suits you better this way," he complemented with another (yes you heard me _another) _smile.

Molly blushed heavily and turned back to the board with a flustered smile.

Sherlock immediately dropped his grin the second her back was turned and ignored his phone when it vibrated in his pocket.

* * *

Alex groaned as she came to her senses. She felt a thick, warm duvet around her body and her head propped up by a firm pillow.

"Hello dearie," the chirpy voice of Mrs Hudson sounded.

Alex blearily opened her eyes and searched for the grandmother figure in the room. Her gaze rested on the woman who was perched on the armchair opposite her.

"Hey Mrs H," Alex greeted sleepily.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Great," Alex lied. There was no point worrying Mrs Hudson at all.

Thankfully, the elderly lady just accepted the fib and turned back to the television.

"Look at this, gas explosion up in Scotland, killed four people it has. One of them was only seven," Mrs Hudson sighed sadly and began to ramble on about other misfortunes that had been broadcasted on BBC News.

Alex nodded and sighed and 'I know-ed' in all of the right places but her mind couldn't really focus or concentrate on much. Every time she tried to listen, a word would just trigger memories. Every time Mrs Hudson said 'woman', all Alex saw was Soo Lin beginning to walk out of the door. Every time she heard the word 'mother', she just thought of her own mother in her last moments, her eyes glassy. Alex knew it would get better in time though. She had phases like this, not that she let on to anybody. Growing up with the Holmes brothers that could read her like a book, meant that she had to learn to mask her emotions and over the years, she had become an expert on it. Practice makes perfect after all. She hadn't thought that she would break down like that though. She hung her head.

Mrs Hudson picked up on Alex's dejected mood and flicked the channel onto Connie Prince. Even though Alex wasn't into girlie things like makeup and clothes, she quite liked to guess how much certain things were and loved when Mrs Hudson and her would have a competition to see how close they could get to the actual price. The winner of each outfit would get a Cadbury's Éclair.

"So how much do you think that this blouse is worth?" Mrs Hudson asked seriously.

Alex broke from her thoughts and flicked her eyes to the screen.

"Um… I would say fifty pounds," she guessed slowly.

Mrs Hudson nodded, "I think I will go a little bit higher with seventy pounds."

They both knew that the shirt in question was nowhere near as much as that and it was blatantly obvious that Mrs Hudson was letting Alex win to cheer her up.

"And the turquoise blouse rolls in at, drum roll please… forty eight pounds and thirty pence!" Connie exclaimed from the TV.

Mrs Hudson pretended to grumble as she threw Alex one of the sweets from her pocket. Alex caught it without looking and began to laugh at the woman's efforts. She really did love Mrs Hudson.

Mrs Hudson had a hard time keeping her sulking face in place when she heard Alex laugh.

"Alright, I will beat you this time around," she promised and turned back to the TV.

Tally board-

Mrs Hudson: IIII IIII II

Alex: IIII IIII IIII

"I swear Alex, you have a gift," Mrs Hudson muttered sullenly.

"You are only three behind me Mrs Hudson," Alex reasoned.

A catchy tinkling of the opening tune meant yet another round of guess the price. This time, it was a pair of designer jeans.

"I think those are fifty pounds," Mrs Hudson said confidently.

"Oh no, I think they are twenty pounds," Alex announced.

They both knew that Alex was trying Mrs Hudson's earlier technique of letting the other win but they both made a silent promise not to mention to each other that they had both caught on. The elderly woman couldn't help a warm smile grace her face as Alex feigned disappointment when it was announced that the jeans were in fact sixty pounds.

The next two rounds passed the same way and they turned the TV off when they both reached a draw at fifteen each.

"Well that was eventful," Alex commented as she sunk further back into the sofa.

"You could say that dearie," Mrs Hudson laughed softly and stood up, "Well, I must be going, I have to catch up with Yvonne and Ramona down the road. Her granddaughter has just had a baby you know," Mrs Hudson said as she gathered her coat.

"Bye Mrs H. Thank you for cheering me up," Alex expressed sincerely.

"Oh it was no problem dearie," she brushed off, "Are you sure you will be alright on your own?"

"I will be fine," Alex reassured the woman, "I am going to start my new Stephen King novel I think. I haven't had a chance to pick it up recently."

"Well don't give yourself nightmares," Mrs Hudson called up from the stairs.

Alex grinned and pulled out 'The Shining' from the shelf that was conveniently placed behind the sofa that she was laid on. _Let the terror commence._

* * *

Sherlock walked through the corridors of the hospital and entered the morgue, closely followed by Detective Inspector Dimmock. Inside, Molly was stood hovering over two body bags that were laid on two tables next to each other. She unzipped one of the bags to show the lifeless face of Brian Lukis.

"We are only interested in the feet," Sherlock told her.

"The _feet_?" Molly furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Yes. D'you mind if we have a look at them?" Sherlock didn't wait for an answer and just led Dimmock over to the other end of the body bag where the outline of Lukis's feet jutted out. Molly obliged obediently and unzipped the bag and pulled open the sides to reveal the feet. Sherlock pointed to an identical black lotus tattoo as the one Soo Lin Yao had shown on the bottom of his right foot.

Sherlock's face split into a smug grin.

"Now Van Coon."

Molly unzipped Van Coon's body bag at the feet and pulled back the edges. Of course, a duplicate of Brian Lukis's and Soo Lin Yao's tattoo rested on his right heel.

Dimmock sagged in defeat. There was no disputing it this time when the evidence was right in front of his face.

"So…" he began awkwardly.

"So either these two men just happened to visit the same Chinese tattoo parlour or I'm telling the truth," Sherlock finished for him impatiently.

"What do you want?" Dimmock sighed in submission.

"I want every book from Lukis' apartment and Van Coon's," Sherlock demanded.

"Their _books_?" Dimmock asked incredulously.

Sherlock gave him a stiff nod and dismissed him with a wave of his hand. Dimmock put his own hands up in surrender and shuffled out, knowing better than to start an argument with his only chance of catching a murderer.

Sherlock ignored the buzz of his phone as it rang for the second time and just turned back to the tattoos on the feet. He gazed at them thoughtfully.

The phone ceased its buzzing for only a second before it began again. Sherlock checked the caller ID.

_Mycroft Holmes._

Sherlock rolled his eyes and tapped decline. There was a time and a place. Actually, with Mycroft there was never a time nor a place.

**So, hope you all liked that :)**

**Thank you time!**

**Thanks to:**

**tula453**

**Quartz KitKat**

**tahmtahm**

**zhousiegfried**

**LoverGirl007**

**Revella**

**almp15**

**aimechick247**

**for following/favouriting!**

**Special massive treble extra thank you to:**

**Rycbar15- Cheers again for another review! I am glad you like the orginalness haha. I was worried in case people didn't like it but phew, I think I may have pulled it off :) I feel really horrible for putting Alex through all of that but I needed to add some excitement to the chapter since the Blind Banker has a few boring parts. Keep reviewing, haha! x**

**GottaLoveTen- oh yeahhhh that review just sounded really cool and I don't know why. I think I have problems... I hope you like this chapter :) x**

**Zhousiegfried- Hello! I am glad you like what I write :) I copied the Chinese when Soo Lin is talking to her brother from the episode and I got the Chinese when she is talking to Alex from Google Translate because I am such a linguist haha. Hope you liked this chapter :) x**

**E.I Cochrane- Yo! Glad you are still liking it :) Hope this chapter was okay for you x**

**Revella- Hiya! I am so glad that you like my stuff and thank you so much for reviewing my chapters individually, it really helps me to know what I can improve on in different contexts :) I took your advice onboard and put more Sherlock and John in this chapter. After the Blind Banker, I have a pretty funny scenario lined up for the two of them. Please review again to let me know if you liked this chapter :) x**

**Woah... lot of thank yous there. You guys are all the best, honestly. It was an amazing feeling to wake up to all of your lovely reviews :)**

**-Abby**

**X**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer- One moment... I know I left it somewhere around here... um... oh, here it is! I, Abby, henceforth do not own Sherlock or any characters that you may recognise. All belongs to the BBC (which has seen fit to destroy my social life with Doctor Who and Sherlock).**

**Author's Note- Helloo :) Hope you all are well and are enjoying what this fanfiction has to offer.**

**Enjoy-**

_Previously:_

_Sherlock ignored the buzz of his phone as it rang for the second time and just turned back to the tattoos on the feet. He gazed at them thoughtfully._

_The phone ceased its buzzing for only a second before it began again. Sherlock checked the caller ID. _

_Mycroft Holmes._

_Sherlock rolled his eyes and tapped decline. There was a time and a place. Actually, with Mycroft there was never a time nor a place._

Sherlock and John walked slowly up the creaking stairs of 221B Baker Street after their journey to St Bart's Hospital, new ideas running through both their heads. John craned his neck in the doorway before they both entered to see if Alex was asleep or not. She was in fact laid with her head comfortably propped up against the armrest, (unsurprisingly) reading a book.

"Hello Alex," John greeted as he threw down his coat.

"Hey John, hey Uncle Sherlock," she replied, infinitely brighter than before.

"I will go and make some tea," John announced and wisely shut the kitchen door to give the family some privacy.

"Are you okay?" Sherlock asked, watching his niece intently.

She gave him a grin.

"Yeah, Mrs Hudson cheered me up."

Sherlock gave a soft smile and sat next to her.

"Good," he said.

Alex bit her lip nervously and shuffled slightly further away from her Uncle.

"I am sorry for… you know…" she stammered.

Sherlock sighed and looped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her back to him.

"Don't you even start with your apologising. It was in no way your fault, neither your breakdown nor Soo Lin Yao's death. You do know that don't you?"

Alex looked down at her bare feet and avoided eye contact.

Sherlock sighed and pressed a kiss to her messy hair.

"What am I going to do with you eh?" he asked good-naturedly.

His phone then took that time to vibrate _again_.

"Answer your phone for a start," Alex giggled, the phone tickling her leg.

"It is just your Uncle Mycroft, it doesn't really matter what he has to say. Probably begging me to help him stop World War Three," Sherlock shrugged.

Alex rolled her eyes.

"Go and answer it Sherlock, it may be important," she told him.

"If it is that important, he would realise that I am deliberately not answering the phone and he would text me," Sherlock reasoned.

As luck would have it, as soon as the words left the man's mouth, his phone vibrated twice screaming a text alert in a high pitched wail.

Alex burst out laughing at the irony of the situation and ran to go and tell John in the kitchen.

The corners of Sherlock's mouth twitched upwards at the sound of his niece's laughter but his face immediately sobered as he opened the text from his brother.

**Sherlock, stop being so childish and answer my calls! What is wrong with Alex? – MH**

**Go away; I am dealing with it – SH**

**I am sure that you are dealing with it but I want to know what you are dealing ****_with!_**** – MH**

**You don't need to – SH**

**Sherlock, have some empathy for once. How would you feel if our roles were reversed and you were suddenly told by one of your men that I was carrying our sobbing niece into a taxi? Notice how I said ****_our _****Sherlock. She isn't just yours! – MH**

Sherlock felt as if he had been slapped. How would he feel if he was Mycroft in this situation? He would be distraught. Alex was all they both had really, apart from John now. And that was when Sherlock Holmes realised how unfairly he was treating his brother.

**Mycroft, I am sorry. – SH**

He couldn't believe that he had actually typed those words and judging by the lack of reply, neither could his brother.

**Thank you Sherlock. Now tell me what happened – MH**

**Alex came with John and I on a case and something went wrong. The murderer turned up while we were interviewing his next potential victim. John hid the girls in a cupboard while we went off to confront the murderer. He must have predicted our moves though and went back to the restoration room. From what I gather, Soo Lin (the victim) told Alex that she had to die and walked out to the murderer. Alex thought that it was her fault that she didn't stop her and by the time I found her, she was screaming about not being able to save Maybelline – SH**

The phone was still and the only sound was the tickling of china as Alex assisted John in making the tea.

**Mycroft? – SH**

**Good God. Is she okay? Ask her if she wants Anthea to pick her up – MH**

**She seems to be coping. Apparently she has been bonding with Mrs Hudson so she is smiling at least. I will ask her now – SH**

"Alex!" Sherlock shouted.

Alex popped her head around the door, a blob of jam on her nose.

"Jam?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, John is making toast," she waved off dismissively.

"Do you want to go around Mycroft's?"

She paused.

"Could you tell him that I will be around tomorrow, I just want to stay at home today. Oh and did you ring the school?" she suddenly remembered the fact that she should have been at school the whole day.

"It is sorted, don't worry. I will inform Mycroft. Now go and make whatever the hell you are making and remember to put the food on a plate, not around your face," he told her mock sternly.

"Hm, plate and face almost rhyme. You are an almost poet and you almost know it," she trailed off thoughtfully and turned back into the kitchen.

Sherlock grinned at her retreating form.

**She wants to stay here today but will arrive at your abode tomorrow – SH**

**Okay, brother. Look after her as always – MH**

**Of course, oh and Mycroft? - SH**

**Hm? – MH**

**This whole conversation never happened – SH**

**Agreed, I am deleting the chat history as we speak – MH**

**What a coincidence – SH**

**Goodbye dear Brother – MH**

**Goodbye Mycroft – SH**

Sherlock flipped his phone shut and threw it on the armchair opposite him. Had that conversation actually just happened? Had he, the great Sherlock Holmes just apologised, and had his mighty brother just thanked him?! Good God, indeed.

Alex took this time to burst out of the kitchen with more strawberry jam matted in her hair than on her burnt toast. Nevertheless, she sat down with a grin and beamed proudly at her work.

"You do know that it is only toast, don't you, not caviar served on a silver platter? And you have burnt it," Sherlock commented as he stretched back lazily.

"It is the extent of my culinary skill, don't knock it," she defended and tried not to grimace as the quite horrifically tasting charcoal hit her tongue.

"How's that?" Sherlock asked innocently.

"Great," Alex lied through gritted teeth.

John watched in amusement as he leaned against the doorframe.

"Good. Well go on, eat up. Don't let me spoil your appetite!" Sherlock encouraged and struggled not to laugh at the death glare that was sent his way.

Alex brought another slice of 'toast' (the term used loosely) to her mouth and crunched down. She was pretty sure that most of Baker Street shook at that point, the chomp was that loud. She chewed the 'food' and forced a smile even though it was like gnawing on a patch of old carpet.

"I can't take this anymore," John gave in, "Shall I make you some edible toast?"

Alex looked outraged, "This is edible!"

John raised an eyebrow disbelievingly at her.

"Fine," she grumbled and held out the plate to him, "Cheers."

John grinned and turned back into the kitchen. Alex faced Sherlock.

"You planned that didn't you?"

"Oh yes," Sherlock drawled smugly.

Alex rolled her eyes and flopped back into the cushions when John entered back with some sandwiches.

"Toast?"

"You broke the toaster," John replied to her questioning glance at her lack of toast.

Alex grinned sheepishly and took the sandwich from the top.

"So, the Black Lotus then, this mysterious criminal organisation," Alex spoke through a mouthful of ham.

Sherlock's face contorted in disgust at the sight but answered anyway, "Not just a criminal organisation; it's a cult. Soo Lin's brother was corrupted by one of its leaders."

Alex looked down in shame at the name.

"She said the name didn't she, at the museum. Sh… Sh- something," John recalled.

"Yes, Shan; General Shan," Sherlock finished for his friend.

"We're still no closer to finding them," Alex piped up, making sure to swallow any food this time.

"Oh come on Alex, you know better than that. We've got almost all we need to know. She gave us most of the missing pieces."

Alex just looked at him blankly. Sherlock circled his hand slowly in encouragement, but his niece's vacant expression never lifted.

"Honestly," he muttered, "Why did he need to visit his sister? Why did he need her expertise?"

"She worked at the museum," John helped.

"Exactly."

Alex suddenly caught on,

"She was expert in antiquities. Mmm, of course. I see!"

"Give the girl a medal," Sherlock cried in exasperation, "Not just any antiquities though, _valuable _antiquities. Ancient Chinese relics purchased on the black market. China is home to a thousand treasures hidden after Mao's revolution."

"And the Black Lotus is selling them," John concluded.

Sherlock's face clouded with thought and he seemed to draw into himself (no doubt treading the glistening halls of his Mind Palace).

"Alex, go and get my laptop," he ordered, his eyes never losing their distant unfocus.

John was slightly unnerved by his friend's almost possessed face but Alex (having gotten more than used to it) just huffed (as any teenager would after being asked to do something) and climbed over the back of the sofa to retrieve the said laptop. After removing a decomposing hand from the lid, she placed the device in Sherlock's lap. He immediately jerked out of his Mind Palace and stared down at the blank screen. It whirred into life and Sherlock tapped on the internet, John coming over to join him on the corner of the armrest.

Alex stealthily made her way back over to the sofa and subtly groped around behind it until her fingers brushed against the rotting flesh. She curled her hand around it and pulled it up, keeping it forever behind her back, immensely glad that the two boys were still immersed in the computer.

"Check for the dates…" Sherlock told John as he clicked on and scrolled through an auction site for Asian art.

"Here, John. Two Ming vases," Sherlock continued, pointing at the pottery, "Arrived from China four days ago."

He looked down at the Sale Information.

"Anonymous. Vendor doesn't give his name. Two undiscovered treasures from the East," John muttered.

_Now._

Alex tossed the hand and squealed in laughter when it hit John directly in the face. He spluttered and almost dropped his tea in shock.

"Alex, no throwing body parts at John," Sherlock droned disinterestedly, his eyes still glued to the screen.

"What did you do that for?" John choked incredulously.

"Well, I couldn't throw it at Uncle Sherlock, he wouldn't even flinch," she smiled.

"Yeah, so throw it at me why don't you! I know somebody who isn't going to be getting anymore ham sandwiches," John threatened, his eyes dancing with laughter however.

Alex threw herself onto the carpet at John's feet theatrically,

"Oh, please noble sir, do not allow me to starve on the street like such a beggar that the East Wind whisks to hell. Without your expertise, my demise is imminent, have mercy kind sir! Have mercy!" she cried dramatically, clinging onto the bottom of John's trousers.

"Get up you scamp," he said good naturedly, "You can so tell that you are related to him," John pointed to Sherlock.

"Yeah, dramatics run in the family," Alex winked and settled herself on the other armrest next to her Uncle so that she could see the screen, "What were you saying before I _so rudely_ interrupted Uncle?"

"What I was _saying _was that there was one of these Ming Vases in Edward Van Coon's suitcase and one in Brian Lukis's."

"Type in 'Chinese Antiquities Sold at Auction' in the search bar," Alex ordered.

Sherlock obliged and brought up the page.

"Look, here's another one," John pointed out.

"Arrived from China a month ago: Chinese ceramic statue, sold for four hundred thousand," Sherlock murmured.

"Four hundred thousand!" Alex exclaimed.

"Ah, look, if you think that it a lot: a month before that – a Chinese painting, half a million," John shook his head in disbelief.

"All of them from an anonymous source. They're stealing them back in China and one by one they're feeding them into Britain," Sherlock breathed.

"And every single auction coincides with Lukis or Van Coon travelling to China," Alex added as she consulted Lukis's diary that was on the coffee table and the printed out timetable belonging to Edward Van Coon.

"So what if one of them got greedy when they were in China? What if one of them stole something?" Sherlock suggested excitedly and Alex couldn't help but feel a buzz in her chest too.

"That's why Zhi Zhu's come."

Before the conversation could go any further, Mrs Hudson walked in.

"Hey, Mrs H! How's the baby?" Alex asked politely.

"Oh, she is gorgeous. Big blue eyes she has got, reminded me of you when you were that age. D'you remember Sherlock, when your May brought her around when she was only a little tot? You crawled all over the flat, had both your Uncles and your Mother fretting over you when you would perform your little stunts off the coffee table and the armrests. Oh you were a joy back then, I loved those days when you would visit. But then of course I was still with my husband. Well, the least said about that the better eh?" Mrs Hudson rambled.

Alex shot Sherlock an amused look.

"Look at me getting off track as usual. Stop talking Mrs Hudson!" she laughed to herself.

"I am under the impression that you came up here to tell us something Mrs Hudson," John steered her on course again smoothly.

"Oh yes dear, right. Well, I was on my way up and-"

"Get to the point Mrs Hudson," Sherlock snapped impatiently.

Alex sent him a reproachful look.

"Sorry. Are we collecting for charity, Sherlock?"

Sherlock furrowed his brow,

"What?"

"A young man's outside with crates of books," she flailed her arms to emphasise her point.

He sighed.

"Alex go and help carry them up," Sherlock waved his hand dismissively.

"Why me?" she groaned.

"Because you are the youngest, now move."

"This isn't Victorian London you know Sherlock," Alex retorted hotly but rose to her feet nonetheless.

"Oh if only it were. Instead of my homeless network, I could have the workhouse children. They would hear all sorts around the factories. I might begin to use you as one of my spies, children attract far less attention," Sherlock muttered.

Alex just nodded, half listening and headed out the door. She came to an abrupt halt as her brain comprehended what her Uncle had just said. She turned on her heel to face John.

"Did he just insinuate sending me to a workhouse?" she frowned.

John looked between the pair and nodded slowly.

"Yeah… I think he did."

Alex opened her mouth as if to say something then shut it again. She shook her head, muttering,

"I don't even want to know," as she descended the stairs to sigh at the mountain of books that she had to carry up. Mrs Hudson patted her shoulder consolingly but retreated to her flat as her hip conveniently starting aching. Alex turned back to the crates and blew out a long, deep breath. Ah, the joys of Baker Street life.

**Chapter fifteen done and dusted :)**

**I really liked doing this chapter and making the three of them seem to fit together as a family.**

**Thank you to:**

**VasilizaSnape**

**for following/favouriting.**

**Again, enormous quadruple bear hug thank you to:**

**Revella: Hey again! Thanks for the feedback and I agree, you can't have too much Sherlock ;) I thought from the beginning that Mrs Hudson should be like a grandma to Alex since she is like a mother to Sherlock and I thought they needed a little bit of bonding, it reminded me of my own Grandma when I am home ill from school. Hope you enjoyed this x**

**rycbar15: Haha, pfft who needs sleep anyway? My life tends to fall apart whether I am conscious or not haha! My teachers actually ask me if I am able to fit in homework in my hectic writing schedule. Oo, I would love to introduce them to Moriarty... I am officially rambling :) Hope you enjoy this chapter x**

**Jaz. Soph25.11: Hello! I full out laughed while writing that scene, I am pretty sure that my neighbour was about to call for the men in white coats to take me away. I very much appreciate your praise and it means a lot that you like my stuff. In answer to your question, there will be no Johnlock unfortunately. I do ship it, I just don't want to diverge too far away from my original plot line. My story would have to many dimensions to it for me to keep up with I think haha. Hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**Review! Review! Review!**

**-Abby**

**X**


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own it. *looks dreamily up into the sky* One day...**

**Author's Note: Hey everybody! Chapter sixteen up and running. I spent quite a bit more time on this chapter to make sure that it was perfect so I hope you all like it!**

**Enjoy-**

_Previously:_

_"Did he just insinuate sending me to a workhouse?" she frowned. _

_John looked between the pair and nodded slowly._

_"Yeah… I think he did."_

_Alex opened her mouth as if to say something then shut it again. She shook her head, muttering,_

_"I don't even want to know," as she descended the stairs to sigh at the mountain of books that she had to carry up. Mrs Hudson patted her shoulder consolingly but retreated to her flat as her hip conveniently starting aching. Alex turned back to the crates and blew out a long, deep breath. Ah, the joys of Baker Street life._

Alex leaned against the door frame, a thin layer of perspiration coating her forehead. Not to mention that the jam that she had somehow gotten into her hair from her toast making escapades earlier was beginning to set and go like a rock. _Only two more crates to go… only two more crates to go_.

John passed her, holding an armful of books and burning a hole in the back of Sherlock's head with his glare.

"You could always help us you know. You have been sat watching us slave away for about half an hour now," John said as he purposely threw down the hardbacks incredibly close to Sherlock's toes.

"John, with the greatest of respect, shut up. I am thinking," Sherlock advised coldly and went back to steepling his fingers under his chin.

John rolled his eyes and vowed that he would find the heaviest hardback there was and 'accidently' trip and hit him in the face with it. John's features must have given away his scheming for Alex snorted in agreement as she turned and forced herself back down the stairs to the front door.

Alex took a deep breath and heaved up the second from last crate into her arms. Her limbs wobbled under the hefty weight. Strength was not exactly her forte; she was more built for speed, even though she was still able to pull John up (he was light). She gritted her teeth and tried to shift the burden onto her knees as she proceeded back up the steps. The plastic was digging into her palms and she began to mutter just so she wouldn't end up throwing the stupid thing back down to the door and out onto the pavement.

"Red, red wine: You're still my hero… makes me forget that I… still need you so-oh."

It wasn't exactly singing, more like furious chanting.

She heaved it into the room and collapsed against it when John set off down for the last one.

"You are making a mountain out of a molehill," Sherlock commented from the sofa.

"I would love to shove your head down a molehill," Alex grumbled under her breath, "What are we actually doing with these books anyway?"

Sherlock jumped up from his sitting position and flipped up a book into his hand. He beckoned her over to him.

"The numbers are references," he told her.

"To books?" John asked, catching the tail end of the conversation as he slammed the door shut and joined the pair.

"Yes, to specific _pages_ and specific _words on_ those pages," Sherlock emphasized.

"Right, so ... fifteen and one: that means ..." John looked at Sherlock for him to continue but it was Alex who answered.

"Turn to page fifteen and it's the first word you read. Right?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Okay. So what's the message?" John inquired.

"That depends on the book," Sherlock snapped, "That's the cunning of the book code. It has to be one that they both owned."

Alex swept her gaze over the mountains of books in despair.

"Well that won't take long then," John remarked sarcastically.

Alex walked over and flipped open the lid of one of the crates to reveal about fifty books.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," she groaned and picked the first one off her pile up as the boys did the same.

_King of the Castle _by _Susan Hill._

Fifteenth page… first word.

_Truce._

Nope.

Next book-

_I am David _by _Anne Holm_

_Pace._

Not this time.

_The crucible _by _Arthur Miller_

_Also._

"We are in for a long night," Alex sighed.

* * *

Once she had gotten to book seventy two, her vision was starting to blur and the words seemed to blend into each other. Her head was beginning to pound and she could barely think.

"Uncle Sherlock, I am going in the bath to get this gunk out of my hair but I will be back soon," she declared and stumbled towards the bathroom. Sherlock barely lifted his head, just grunted in consent and picked up another book.

Alex stripped off her clothes still from yesterday and hung her pyjamas over the radiator so that they would be nice and warm for her to put on after her soak. She purged the taps and waited for the old pipes to rattle into life. Soon enough, hot water began to spurt into the tub and steam slowly started to accumulate in small puffs of dancing condensation. Alex dipped her toe in and smiled in satisfaction when the temperature was just right. She slipped under the water and let the warm liquid submerge her body up to just under her nose.

Her headache immediately ceased with the soothing rippling and she closed her eyes. All of the weight on her shoulders elevated and evaporated like the toasty water that surrounded her. The whole outside world seemed a million miles from her little bubble. All of the pain and the anxiety were just a muffled thumping on the other side of an insulated wall, blissfully disjointed from her consciousness. Her mind was slowing down like a machine having the switch pulled and the last cogs just gradually grinding to a halt, trying to salvage the last of the power before their imminent shutting off, nothing impeding their track.

Alex's eyes began to flutter shut and her limbs went limp as she slipped out of consciousness. She sunk under the water, the level coming over her eyes. In her slumber, she tried to breathe in, only for her lungs to fill with water. Reflexively, she snapped awake and shot her head up out of the water, coughing and spluttering to rid herself of the choking water. Her arms thrashed as she struggled to breathe but soon managed to take a deep, shuddering breath as the water cleared. She regulated the rise and fall of her chest and propped herself up against the handrail as she climbed out.

_Well that wasn't the best of ideas. Of all the things for me to die of, being shot, stabbed, strangled, poisoned, all of which had already been attempted, it would have to be me that drowns herself in the bath._

She patted herself dry with the laundered towels (courtesy of Mrs Hudson) and slipped into her snug pyjamas. Her hair was wet and dripping all over the carpet so she wrapped it up and placed the towel made turban on the top of her head. She sleepily shuffled back into the living room to find the boys in the exact same position. Feeling slightly more refreshed than before her shower, Alex pulled the blanket hanging over the back of the sofa around her shoulders and picked up another book. And another book and another book and another book and another book.

* * *

Tiny glimmers of the dawn's sunlight seeped through the crack in the curtains, causing little fractions of dust particles to illuminate as they twirled and looped in their silent dance. Alex shifted her sleepy gaze to John at the sound of his alarm clock on his watch.

"John, make it shut up," she mumbled as she threw another book onto the reject pile.

John obligingly flicked the beeping watch and it fell silent at his touch.

"Urgh, I have to be at the surgery in twenty minutes," he groaned and stood up to go and have a shower.

"Work… how dull," Sherlock stated.

Alex looked startled at his voice. Those were the only words he had spoken all night and she had ashamedly forgotten about his presence in her immersion within the depths of Van Coon and Lukis's books.

"He has to work, Uncle Sherlock. Not everyone can freelance like you," she said as she threw her still damp towel in the general direction of the kitchen.

"Why not? Anyway, we will have more than enough money when we solve this case."

Alex shrugged, seeing his point and rubbed her eyes.

"Tired?" he asked without looking up from the book in his hand.

"No, I am dandy," she snarked sarcastically.

"Always so aggressive," Sherlock shook his head in mock-sadness.

"Yeah, well I did grow up around you and most of London's murderers so what can you really expect?" she countered.

John took this moment to egress back into the room, fiddling with his top button.

"Why did you have to keep us up this late Sherlock? I am sure Alex has school," John complained.

The book slipped out of Alex's hand as she froze at the prospect.

"Relax, Al'. I told them that Aunt Muriel died," Sherlock passed off.

"Who's Aunt Muriel?" Alex wrinkled her nose as she tried to recall the estranged Aunt.

"Exactly."

Alex grinned and picked up the next book.

_50 Shades of Grey _by _E.L James_

She shuddered and threw it down onto the reject pile without opening it up. She felt that her innocence would evaporate on the spot if she did. What were Edward Van Coon and Brian Lukis doing with a book like that anyway? That was what she wanted to know. WHat was really worrying about it though, were the number of post it notes marking different pages...

The corners of John's lips twitched upwards in amusement as he saw the book title and Alex's reaction to it.

"Well I had better be going, I don't want to be late for my first day," John turned and left through the door.

"Good Luck!" Alex called as she heard him reach the bottom step.

"Cheers!" came the reply and a short click of a door.

Alex sighed and tried a new tactic, lying down and having the book horizontally and then she could read it while-

The _Word-Search Wonder _book fell to the ground with a gentle thump. Alex had fallen asleep the moment that her head made contact with the cushion.

Sherlock groaned as he lost his only remaining help but couldn't help but smirk slightly at the sight. He slipped out his phone and snapped a picture. John had planned to make a scrapbook for Alex for Christmas so they needed photos. The one with John and Alex asleep in the museum cleaners cupboard was _definitely _going in!

* * *

The surgery was bustling with activity, but not the kind of in-out job-done service that you would expect. Hoards of angry and not so patient patients milled around, trying to catch the flustered receptionist's eye.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting," she apologised over and over again.

"But we haven't got anything now 'til next Thursday," she repeated as more and more patients huffed exasperatedly and complained at the service.

Sarah popped her head out of her door, alerted by the noise. She immediately saw the rabble and chaos and made her way over to the receptionist.

"Um, what's going on?" she asked and apologised after standing on a lady's foot.

"That new doctor you hired – he hasn't buzzed the intercom for ages," the receptionist whispered in hushed tones so as not to let on to the patients.

"Let me go and have a word," Sarah smiled kindly.

"Oh thank you," the receptionist expressed gratefully.

Sarah turned back and weaved through the sea of irked people waiting to be seen by their doctor. Sarah knocked once on the door of John's room.

"John?"

There was no answer from the inside.

"John?" she called more forcefully.

There was still silence and Sarah gently opened the door. She was greeted with a sleeping John, his head propped up on his hand, and softly snoring.

Sarah sighed, half in irritation that she would have to cover his patients as well as her own but also partly in the fact that John looked especially cute while sleeping. She bit her tongue to stop herself from giggling like a school girl and quietly backed out of the room.

* * *

A now fully awake John walked into the surgery lobby seven hours later and threw his coat onto his back as he approached Sarah.

"Um, looks like I'm done. I thought I had some more to see," John frowned in confusion.

"Oh, I did one or two of yours," Sarah passed off casually.

"One or two?"

"Well, maybe five or six," Sarah relented.

"I am sorry. That isn't very professional," John apologised sincerely.

"No. No, not really."

"I had, um, a bit of a late one," John admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Oh, right," Sarah looked startled.

"Anyway, see you," John waved goodbye and turned to leave.

"So, um, what were you doing to keep you up so late?" Sarah couldn't resist asking.

John stopped and turned back to her.

"Uh, I was, er, attending a sort of book event," John replied. It wasn't really lying, just conveniently missing out the part of doing it to solve a murder.

"Oh. Oh, she likes books, does she, your ... your girlfriend?" Sarah asked in what she hoped was a nonchalant voice.

"Mmm? No, it wasn't a date," John corrected her.

"Good," she said just a bit too quickly.

She rapidly blushed and stuttered to cover her slip-up.

"I mean, um ..."

John saved her the embarrassment by cutting off her no doubt rambling trip to nowhere with a smooth, "And I don't have one tonight."

Sarah beamed, her eyes lightening up immensely at the thought of a date with John. John just grinned back at her, seeming enormously cool as he swaggered out of the surgery, unknowingly impersonating Sherlock's confident strut. As soon as he was around the corner and out of sight of the surgery, he dropped his impersonation and punched the air in glee. _Oh yeah, John Watson for the win._

* * *

Back at 221B Baker Street, Sherlock Holmes threw down another blasted book. He had to admit, things were not going as well as he had hoped. _Time to try a different approach._

He sauntered past a still sleeping Alex and stood at the bookshelf.

"A book that everybody would own," he muttered to himself.

His hand immediately lunged for the Oxford Concise Dictionary, the Holy Bible and another well-worn book. He placed them on top of one of the upturned crates (kicked over by Alex in her frustration) and took the Oxford Concise Dictionary first and flicked through it until he reached,

"Page fifteen. Entry one."

_Add._

He picked up the Complete Medical Encyclopaedia next.

_Nostrils._

He placed the Encyclopaedia next to the Dictionary and picked up the Holy Bible.

_I._

Sherlock groaned in anguish and ran his hands through his hair when John entered the flat.

"I see she finally succumbed to the temptation," John chuckled, pointing at Alex's sleeping form.

"Yes… she gave in a few hours ago."

There was a moment of silence that of course could only be broken by the theatrics of Sherlock Holmes.

"I need to get some air. We're going out tonight," Sherlock declared dramatically.

"Actually, I've, err, got a date," John grinned smugly.

"What?"

"It's where two people who like each other go out and have fun," John explained as if to a small child.

"That's what I was suggesting," Sherlock whined, every bit the child that John was speaking to him as.

"No it wasn't ... at least I _hope_ not," John added as an afterthought.

"Where are you taking her?" Sherlock pretended to be interested.

"Err, cinema," John replied.

"Oh, dull, boring, predictable," he handed John the piece of poster that he had ripped off near the train line whilst on the search for the cipher, "Why don't you try this?"

John took the paper and glanced over it. The words 'Yellow Dragon Circus' were printed in block capitals across the top.

"In London for one night only," Sherlock added, hoping that little snippet of information would sway John.

John chuckled and handed back the poster,

"Thanks, but I don't come to you for dating advice."

Sherlock knew better however and internally grinned to himself in pride. Manipulation had always been his forte.

**Thank You to:**

**Xin0Lan**

**OpalFyr**

**Kell-bells34**

**Rey Abernathy-Dixon-House**

**Captain-Winter**

**SavetheSnidget**

**for following/favouriting**

**Thank you to the absolute stars and back to all who reviewed.**

**Huntress111111-I believe it is definitely possible to fall in love with a fanfic, I have fallen in love with so many that I can't even count! Thank you for your kind words and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. x**

**Revella- Oops, I guess I was more tired than I thought haha, hopefully my grammar is better in this one :) Thank you for pointing it out, I will now watch more carefully :D. I agree, I always pictured John as being good with kids. He has to have a patient temperament to deal with Sherlock! Hope you liked this chapter! x**

**rycbar15- Haha, it isn't that awesome trust me... I have a few ideas as far as Moriarty is concerned but I haven't really decided on one yet. I have been dropping hints however, and if you follow the story closely, you may see that one thing keeps cropping up. Hope you liked this! x**

**Kell-Bells34- haha, I am glad you like it! I have laughed countless times writing it. My friends and I have been in kinks while thinking some of the witty comments up. Hope you enjoyed this! x**

**E.I Cochrane- Hello again! Thank you for reviewing once more and I am glad that you like it. Hope this lived up to previous chapters :) x**

**tinuviel21- Hello! Thank you so much for the complements! I love brotherly interaction between the two. Hope you liked this x**

**Xin0Lan- Hello! I would like to say an enormous thanks for taking the time to review individually. Of course you aren't bothering me with the e-mails, every one I opened from you just made you five times more awesome! I think that Anthea doesn't get enough mention in the series so why not add her into here more? :) I hope this chapter lived up to the previous ones :) x**

**Another enormous thank you to everyone, please stick with me because you have helped me leaps and bounds with my English since my English teacher doesn't even know that I exist. You guys are all amazing! **

**Please Review!**

**-Abby**

**X**


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters that you may recognise apart from Alex!**

**Author's Note: Hey again, I quite like my writing every night streak. It is something that I look forward to from five until ten :) Most of this chapter will be a flashback to Alex's past. Warning for cute fluff with a young Alex and the Holmses ;)**

**Enjoy-**

_Previously:_

_John took the paper and glanced over it. The words 'Yellow Dragon Circus' were printed in block capitals across the top._

_"In London for one night only," Sherlock added, hoping that little snippet of information would sway John._

_John chuckled and handed back the poster,_

_"Thanks, but I don't come to you for dating advice."_

_Sherlock knew better however and internally grinned to himself in pride. Manipulation had always been his forte._

Alex groaned and swatted as hard as she could at the source of the annoying prodding that had disturbed her sleep.

"Ow!" Sherlock exclaimed and rubbed his raw hand.

"Next time it will be your face if you don't leave me alone," Alex threatened, her eyes still screwed together.

Sherlock stood up to his full height and put on his strictest voice.

"Alessandra, get up now."

"Seriously? That hasn't worked since I was six, I always know when you are putting it on," Alex snorted and turned over on her side to face the back of the sofa.

Sherlock sighed and walked into the kitchen. He let the cold tap run until it was absolutely freezing and filled a glass up with it. He smirked as he stalked over to the back of the sofa and slowly began to tilt the glass horizontally. The liquid inside sloshed up the sides and the tiniest drop dripped onto the mass of curly hair beneath it. The hair acted as blanket between the water and skin so Alex didn't feel the first drop. Or the second drop. Or the fifth, sixth, seventh-

"ARRGH!" she screamed and shot to her feet, locking her limbs in place when the freezing water slithered down her warm back.

"What the hell are you playing at?!" she screeched shrilly.

Sherlock winced at the high pitched squeaks emitting from his niece but replied calmly,

"You wouldn't co-operate. Now go up and get dressed, we are going out."

Alex stomped her foot childishly,

"Where?"

"Don't pretend you don't know."

"I honestly have no idea."

"What did I rip off the wall when you were dead to the world on my back?"

"I don't know, like you said, I was dead to the world," Alex said none the wiser.

"Don't try my patience Alessandra," Sherlock warned in frustration.

Realising that her Uncle was being serious, she stopped being childish and cast her mind back to two nights ago.

"Um… oh! That thing… Yellow Dwarf… No Yellow Dragon Circus!" she remembered.

"Got there in the end," he mocked and gently shoved her up the stairs, "Go on and make yourself presentable."

"You sound like Mycroft," she teased.

Sherlock put a hand to his heart in mock grief.

"You wound me deeply."

Alex giggled and went to do as she was requested. Not that she was going to get dressed up however, you never know when you may need to run from lunatic serial killers and it definitely gives you an advantage if you don't have a mini skirt and broken heels.

She threw on a pair of black leggings and a long, baggy checked shirt so that nothing could restrict her movements since she was sure that Sherlock had some ulterior motive to going to the circus other than just for enjoyment, and knowing Sherlock, it would not be good.

Alex skipped out of her room slung her rucksack over her shoulder. She never left home without it. It held everything she needed, Paracetamol, bandages, plasters, book, hunting knife and gun. She had been given the gun by Sherlock, under the promise that she wouldn't use it unless in a dire situation until he taught her how to use it properly. Thankfully, that day hadn't yet arrived. _Yet._

"Are you ready yet?" Sherlock called from the front door of 221B.

"We have to wait for John!"

"Oh, John is already there," Sherlock replied, forgetting to tell his niece about the fact.

Alex frowned and popped her head around the bannister to face her Uncle.

"Why did he go without us? Have you upset him?" she asked with a sigh.

"No! Why do you always assume that I have upset someone?" Sherlock defended.

"Because you always do. Now going back to my original question, John is…" she motioned for Sherlock to continue.

"He is with his date," he grumbled unhappily. How could his blogger be off gallivanting with girls in the middle of a case?!

"You mean that we are gate crashing his date?"

"Yes."

"Sherlock, we can't do that!" Alex cried.

"Why not?"

"Because they are on a date!"

"Yes, I know, I told you not five seconds ago. We need to go anyway, this could be vital to the case," Sherlock finished.

"But… fine. But we stand away from them and give them some privacy, okay," she pointed her finger at Sherlock with a warning look on her face.

"Ooh, look who the mini Mycroft is now," Sherlock taunted, earning himself a clip behind the ear as they proceeded onto the pavement and called a taxi.

Sherlock groaned as he saw the same battered, paint peeling, snail paced taxi from earlier mount the curb with strenuous effort and a faint crack.

"Hello again mate," the cabbie greeted cheerfully.

Alex looked at Sherlock questioningly but climbed into the back.

"Yellow Dragon Circus, please," Sherlock announced and sat next to his niece.

The taxi gave an awful lurch, throwing the occupants of the back seat forward and crashing into their seatbelts.

_Maybe I just have a really bad choice in taxis, _Sherlock thought.

Meanwhile, Alex leaned back once the taxi was steadily trundling along and thought back to the last time she had been to the circus. That was one of the best days of her life, before the worst day of her life.

_Maybelline Holmes laughed heartily as she watched her five year old daughter cling to Sherlock's back as he spun her around in the car park. Alex had been excited all the day before to arrive at the ominous satin tent that had been erected in their neighbourhood the previous week._

_"Mummy, can I have some money for candy foss when we get in?" Alex asked, her big cobalt coloured eyes pleading up at her mother._

_"I am sure Uncle Mycroft will be able to fork out for some candy __**floss**__. It is spelt with an 'l' sweetheart," Maybelline corrected gently._

_Alex turned to her Uncle who was standing next to her mother._

_"Is that okay Uncle Mycwoft?" _

_Mycroft mock sighed and patted his pockets._

_"Sorry, I don't have anything, dear."_

_Alex's face fell and she tried to hide her disappointment. _

_"Wait-"_

_Alex perked up hopefully._

_"What is this?" he asked with a frown as he reached behind Alex's ear and retrieved a two pound coin._

_Alex's eyes widened as she looked from the coin back to the smirking face of her Uncle in shock._

_"How… how did you do that?" she breathed in astonishment._

_Mycroft tapped the side of his nose,_

_"One day I shall tell you, my dear. One day," he promised mysteriously. _

_Alex looked at him sceptically. _

_"Pinkie Pwomise," she declared and held out her little finger. _

_Mycroft bit the inside of his mouth to stop himself from chuckling at his adorable little niece and held out his own finger._

_"Pinkie Promise."_

_Alex nodded as if he had sworn over holy relics and bounded back over to Sherlock._

_"Look what Uncle Mycwoft gave me!" she waved the two pound piece proudly. _

_Sherlock looked at his brother to see a smug smile sitting on his face. Time to knock that off. Maybelline rolled her eyes at her older brothers fondly as the competition began._

_Sherlock pretended to rub his nose._

_"Are you getting hay fever?" Alex asked innocently, her face etched with cute concern._

_"It is November. People don't get hay fever in the winter," Sherlock explained to her._

_Alex's face took on one of dumbstruck shock, as if someone had told her that fairies were living under her bed, or as if someone had told her that Santa Claus wasn't real. (What do you mean not real? Someone is definitely on the naughty list! Moron)._

_Sherlock continued to rub and scratch his nose._

_"Are you getting a cold then?" Alex tried._

_"No, no, I just need to sneeze I think- AATTCHOO!" _

_Sherlock cupped his hands around his face as he pretended to sneeze. He removed his hands to reveal a five pound note fluttering between his fingers._

_"Oh, how did that get there?" he asked Alex in mock thought._

_Alex cried happily and jumped in glee when he held out the note for her to take._

_"I have two magic Uncles!" she exclaimed._

_She added the note to her little sequinned purse and looked down at the contents. _

_"So now I have… um…" she trailed off._

_"Mycroft gave you two pounds and I gave you five pounds," Sherlock sent his brother a cocky grin, "So what is two add five?"_

_Alex frowned and counted her fingers._

_"There are five on one hand. And two here. So, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven!" _

_Sherlock ruffled her black curls and she pranced over to Mycroft._

_"I did it! I did it!"_

_"Well done," he chuckled and held out his hand for a high five (something Alex had taught him the previous week)._

_Alex went to slap his hand with her own when she felt something fall into it just before she made contact. She looked down and was greeted by a ten pound note wrapped around her tiny wrist._

_"WOW! Mummy look!" Alex held out the stash of money._

_"Oh wow, you have enough to buy half the sweet cart!" Maybelline exaggerated to her daughter._

_"Really?"_

_"No."_

_Alex pouted but quickly grinned again once she heard music from inside the tent. People were beginning to arrive now and a crowd was starting to form._

_"Do you want a piggy back so we don't lose you?" Mycroft asked his pint-sized niece._

_"No thanks, Sherlock is taller. I will sit on your knee when we are in there though, you are more cushiony," Alex smiled and crawled up Sherlock's back. _

_Maybelline hid a smile behind her hand but felt that she could let it out once she saw both of her brothers chuckling at the little girl on the middle sibling's back._

_Sherlock hoisted Alex up further onto his shoulders and kept a tight hold on her so she wouldn't be swept away by the hundreds of people that were beginning to swarm. Maybelline felt Mycroft's grip on her arm so the two would not get separated and both kept Sherlock and his precious load in their sights at all times. _

_They stopped at the candy floss stall and Alex paid for it with the two pound coin. She grinned and dived into the cloud of pink, still firmly planted on her Uncle's strong shoulders._

_"Enjoying that are we?" Sherlock asked in amusement as Alex smacked her lips noisily._

_"Very much," she beamed, tearing a bit off and placing it in Sherlock's mouth. _

_He almost flinched at the sweetness but as it melted on his tongue, he realised that it actually tasted okay, not like the plastic tasting Gummy Worms that he had been introduced to. _

_"Do you want to play something while we wait?" Sherlock asked as they came to a standstill behind the admittance cue._

_"Um okay."_

_"What do you want to play?"_

_"Deductions," she grinned readily._

_Mycroft, Maybelline and Sherlock all stared at her in shock._

_"What?" her mother asked._

_"Deductions. Like when you three look at someone and see who they are," Alex explained._

_"How do you know about deductions?" Mycroft asked, giving Sherlock a glare._

_"You three always talk about them when you think I am asleep. You say things like she is the murderer! Or he killed the old lady! Or she's sleeping with her brother! Or they are all goldfish! Or he is a little shit!"_

_"Alex!" the three Holmeses scolded at once._

_"What? I am only repeating what you said! It isn't swearing if you are just repeating," Alex defended. _

_Sherlock smirked. _

_"Anyway, what is wrong with goldfish? I like them, they go bob, bob, bob, bob," Alex made popping faces with her mouth and crossed her eyes._

_"Accurate description of the one we were describing," Mycroft muttered with a smile._

_"And also," Alex started and they all grinned, "I don't see anything weird about sleeping with your brother."_

_Maybelline disguised her laugh with a cough as the brothers reined in their mirth. _

_"You slept on the sofa with Uncle Sherlock and me when the nasty people smashed our windows and took our secret things."_

_The mood immediately damped (apart from Alex, who was still looking around in awe, oblivious to the reaction she had caused). _

_"What do you remember about that night, Al' darling?" Maybelline asked hesitantly. _

_"Nothing, I was asleep until we reached Uncle Mycroft's," Alex said simply and resumed her task of picking non-existent lint from Sherlock's coat._

_The adults immediately relaxed and they handed over their tickets. The sound of gaudy music reached Alex's ears and she clapped excitedly, looking around at her Mother and Uncles._

_Blissfully unaware of how little time she had left with the former._

Alex was pulled out of her memory by Sherlock clicking his fingers in front of her face.

"We are here. What has got you so daydreamy?" he asked as he paid the taxi driver and opened the door.

"Oh, just reminiscing," she answered vaguely as she also climbed out and stood by her Uncle underneath an array of scarlet and gold Chinese Lanterns that were hanging from the canopy over the entrance.

"About the circus?" he guessed.

Alex nodded distantly.

"Do you remember?" she inquired.

Sherlock chuckled, "Of course. You were adorable that day. It was like having a parrot on my shoulder."

Alex grinned.

"I remember getting loads of money. How much did you two lose competing against each other by the way?"

"I lost one hundred and twenty and Mycroft lost one hundred and fifty," Sherlock laughed as he recalled the memory.

"That was the best day out ever. Just the four of us, before Mum…" Alex trailed off, wishing she had never brought up the subject.

Sherlock smiled sadly and held out his hand.

"Come on, for old time's sake."

Alex took his hand inquisitively and screeched in glee when she was pulled up and settled on her Uncle's shoulders. She grasped onto his hair to stop herself from slipping.

"I am not as light as I used to be you know," she laughed.

"Oh relax; you weigh less than a mite."

Alex rested her cheek against the top of Sherlock's head, their identical curls mingling. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the music, the mouth-watering smell of hotdogs, the fluffy candy 'foss' dissolving on her tongue, Mycroft's ten pound wrapped around her pudgy five year old fist, Sherlock's comforting arms keeping her in place and the sweet fragrance of her Mother's perfume, wrapping around her like a loving blanket. Alex just wished she didn't have to pretend as Sherlock entered the Chinese circus.

**Chapter seventeen done!**

**I really loved writing this one, just some cute interaction with a younger Alex makes my heart melt.**

**Thank you to:**

**CelticCharm**

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**Wacking great big thank you to:**

**bookaddict209- Haha, I have a thing of get in from school, take by dog out, then write for five hours every night so haha. Hope this was okay for you x**

**rycbar15- Yoo-Hoo hello again! I thought of having her home-schooled but for the next case after the blind banker, I need her to be there unfortunately for her :( I am rubbish at hints as well but I have tried to make them subtle so it isn't too obvious. Hope this was cool x**

**Revella- Hey again! I know, that is so annoying. I don't know if it is or my laptop but sometimes after I type in pen names to thank someone, as soon as I hit submit, it deletes half of the letters in it :/ It only happens with certain ones though... Hope this chapter is okay for you x**

**Xin0Lan- Hey! Yeah a little bit of thoughtful Sherlock haha, I loved writing the banter between them, it is incredibly fun! Hope this one is okay for you x**

**Guest- Hello! Thank you for you review :D I am so glad you like it. Hope this one is okay for you x**


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: Still not owned unfortunately, all goes to the BBC**

**Author's Note: Oh Lord... something did not want this chapter to be published today. First my laptop had to be updated which took an hour then the battery died while half way through so I had to reset it to a time when it was working again because it hadn't finished the update and then I lost the chapter, then I had a half hour long nose bleed and almost fainted and urghh *deep breath* rant over. I will not be rattled by the forces of the universe! I apologise for any mistakes but I am dead on my feet haha,**

**Enjoy-**

_Previously_

_"I am not as light as I used to be you know," she laughed._

_"Oh relax; you weigh less than a mite."_

_Alex rested her cheek against the top of Sherlock's head, their identical curls mingling. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the music, the mouth-watering smell of hotdogs, the fluffy candy 'foss' dissolving on her tongue, Mycroft's ten pound wrapped around her pudgy five year old fist, Sherlock's comforting arms keeping her in place and the sweet fragrance of her Mother's perfume, wrapping around her like a loving blanket. Alex just wished she didn't have to pretend as Sherlock entered the Chinese circus._

"There's John and his date," Alex pointed out the couple standing over next to the ticket booth.

"Yes, thank you for stating that Alex, because I certainly didn't notice the only other two people apart from us in an empty reception area," Sherlock snarked.

"Alright, alright. Can I get down now, my legs have gone numb?"

Sherlock helped Alex down to her feet as they made their over to the couple.

"Actually, I have four in that name," Alex heard the ticket master say.

"No, I don't think so. We only booked two," John frowned.

"And then I phoned back and got two for Alex and I as well," Sherlock announced from behind the lovebirds, causing both to jump and Alex to cringe at John's inevitable response.

"I'm Sherlock and this is Alessandra," Alex punched him in the arm "who will resort to some form of violence should you call her anything other than Alex."

Alex rolled her eyes and held her hand out to Sarah.

"Err, hi," Sarah replied, taking Alex's hand nervously.

Alex smiled brightly, putting the woman somewhat at ease. John in the other hand just groaned at his friend's antics and subtly motioned with his head to talk with Sherlock alone.

"Actually Alex, would you mind helping me find the ladies?" Sarah asked, unknowingly having the same plan as the boys.

"Sure," Alex replied instantly.

She was just happy that she wouldn't have to deal with an irate John. _Yes, yes I am a coward._ _Give me a break!_

Sherlock caught on to Alex's little scheme and scowled at her retreating form.

"You couldn't let me have just one night off?" John muttered.

"Yellow Dragon Circus, in London for one day. It fits. The Tong sent an assassin to England-"

"Dressed as a tightrope walker? Come on, Sherlock, behave!" John interrupted, making sure to keep his voice low.

"We're looking for a killer who can climb, who can shin up a rope. Where else would you find that level of dexterity? Exit visas are scarce in China. They need a pretty good reason to get out of that country. Now, all I need to do is have a quick look round the place," Sherlock started.

"Fine. You do that; I'm gonna take Sarah for a pint," John told him blankly and began to turn around.

Sherlock caught his arm.

"I need your help," he ordered sternly.

"I do have a couple of other things on my mind this evening!" John snapped.

"Like _what_?" retorted Sherlock.

John stared at him vacantly.

"You _are_ kidding."

"What's so important?" Sherlock asked in disbelief. _What is more important than a case!?_

"Sherlock, I'm right in the middle of a date. D'you want me to chase some killer while I'm trying to ..."

"What?"

John lost all patience and snapped-

The girls wandered off past a flight of stairs and into the toilets. Sarah walked over to the mirror and refreshed her lip gloss, Alex just idly sweeping her gaze over the tiles on the wall.

"Do you mind if I ask you something?" Sarah asked as she looked at Alex through the mirror.

"Go ahead," Alex leaned on the closed door.

"Is John…? I mean is he, oh I don't know how to put it without seeming stupid," Sarah muttered.

"Good?" Alex offered with a smile.

Sarah nodded with a fretful look on her face.

"I can assure you, John is one of the best men I have ever met and I have met a _lot _of men through my relations," Alex conveniently neglected to mention the tiny fact that most of these men had murdered at least one person.

Sarah's shoulders fell in relief and she allowed a small smile of pure happiness light up her face.

"I am guessing that you may have been on dates with men who have fallen out of the good category," Alex deduced.

Sarah gave a tiny nod and tucked a stray hair from her fringe behind her ear.

"But John isn't like that, so you don't need to worry," Alex reassured her and tried not to punch the air when she realised that that was exactly what she should have said. She was getting better with the whole comforting strangers malarkey; John moving in had definitely helped.

Sarah held her arm out to link with Alex as they emerged from the bathroom. Alex was slightly uncomfortable with the contact at first but soon (as she always did) relaxed once she realised that the woman's intentions were not in any way ill. They walked toward the stairway that Sherlock and John had gathered.

"While I'm trying to get off with Sarah!" was all that was heard as the aforementioned woman and Alex arrived at their feet.

"Heyyy," John drew out, trying to defuse the awkwardness.

Sherlock rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and motioned for Alex to follow him up the stairs and into the showing area.

Alex pushed Sherlock as far as she could away from John and Sarah and surveyed the scene.

Small, excited murmurings of the spectators that were gathered in a circle filled the dimly lit hall. A grand stage sat like a sleeping lion, apparently being unused judging by the precise ring of candles, each exactly spaced between each other on the floor in front. On the left side of the circle stood a strange shape of some description under a patterned sheet, and on the right stood a wooden board with leather straps attached to it.

Alex shuffled closer and leaned against Sherlock's arm as a light patter of a drum began. A Chinese woman walked into the centre of the circle of candles. She was exuberantly dressed in traditional Chinese clothing, all of her garments traced with gold beading. Her face was powdered white in stark contrast to the pure black eye liner that traced her eyes. Her lips were a deep scarlet and Alex immediately knew that she was the ringleader in the circus, if you could call it that.

John seemed to agree with her as she caught him mouthing, "This is not a circus, it is… art," from the other end of the ring, his face distorted in disgust.

Alex shared the same view on the topic. Art wasn't something she enjoyed. She could look at a painting and think 'that is a nice painting' and then move on with her life. The thought of spending all of that time on delicate little squiggles made her want to just hurl something at a wall. She definitely didn't have the right temperament to be an artist.

The woman walked over to the sheet over the strange object on the right and pulled the cover off, revealing a medieval looking contraption that made Alex's stomach constrict. The woman then pulled a spear with a single white feather on the end of it from a basket and showed the audience. She proceeded to place the spear into the contraption and take a feather from her ornamental headdress and delicately placed it into the bowl inside the contraption.

As soon as it made the slightest contact, the spear shot out like a greyhound on the starting gun and lodged itself into the wall. Alex jumped and gripped onto Sherlock's coat in shock. Sherlock chuckled down at his niece and put his arm around her.

Over the other side, Sarah had just done the same to John and Alex mouthed 'Nicely played Jonny-Boy' when Sarah's arm stayed looped around his. John just grinned and winked at her.

A new man now dressed in a sort of war mask with chainmail like attire stepped forward out of the shadows. He was immediately surrounded by two other Chinese men who wrapped heavy metal chains and tight straps around him, strapping his folded arms over his chest. He was then backed into the wall that the spear had just been taken out of and attached to it. He grunted as the straps were tightened even more, so that he could not even breathe.

"What is going on?" Alex whispered to her Uncle, never taking her eyes off the scene.

"Classic Chinese escapology act," he replied softly, "The crossbow's on a delicate string. The warrior has to escape his bonds before it fires."

The woman loaded another spear into the contraption and picked up a knife.

"She splits the sandbag; the sand pours out; gradually the weight lowers into the bowl," Sherlock continued into Alex's ear.

Alex's eyes widened.

The woman plunged the knife into the sandbag that was hanging above the bowl and the tiny grains of sand began to flitter out. The man that was tied up groaned and strained against his bonds as he tried to pull himself free with brunt force. Alex found herself chanting encouragement under her breath, much to the amusement of Sherlock.

The sand was running out more steadily now and the weight was getting closer and closer to the bowl. Alex could feel the blood pounding in her ears.

In a sudden burst of power, the warrior managed to rip one of his hands free and wriggled the other from its trap also. He then proceeded to grapple with the chain around his neck. But the weight was getting closer. Alex felt her nails dig into her palms. It was so close now, mere seconds away from lodging a spear through the man's chest. He cried out as his finger fumbled with the lock.

Alex couldn't take any more and hid her face behind Sherlock.

She heard more grunting and finally the releasing of the spear. She squeezed her eyes shut and peeked around to see the Warrior bowing to the audience, barely escaping with his life. Alex laughed in relief and looked up at Sherlock.

"How the hell was that entertainment?" she breathed, still trying to calm back down after the suspense.

Sherlock just grinned and ruffled her hair. He was about to open his mouth when something suddenly crossed his mind.

"Coming?" he asked as he stalked around the outside of the candles.

"Where?" she whispered back only to get no reply.

She took her opportunity whilst everybody was occupied applauding the warrior to sneak around after Sherlock. She followed him behind the curtain and backstage where a dressing table and numerous props and costumes stood.

Sherlock motioned to her to look through the curtains at the acrobat gliding through the air holding two crimson bands.

"Well, well," she murmured.

Suddenly, a door banged open backstage and Sherlock shoved his niece behind a clothes rail before joining her himself. Alex had to grab onto one of the coat hanger to steady herself. Unfortunately, the metal screeched along the bar and the Chinese woman that had entered snapped around to the noise in alarm. Alex bit her lip and faced her Uncle who was still cool as you like. The woman shook her head as if she was hearing things and walked back out.

Alex let out a breath and allowed herself to be pulled out by Sherlock.

"A little warning next time would be better," Alex huffed.

"I will just leave you next time," Sherlock threatened but both knew that the emptiness of that threat was laughable.

Just then, Sherlock noticed an slightly open bag behind Alex.

"What is in there?" he asked her as she knelt down to inspect it.

"Um…" she pulled the zip open more to reveal canisters of yellow spray paint. Grinning, she threw one over her shoulder to Sherlock who caught it with ease.

Branded across the side were the words Michigan and Alex's mind floated back to Raz,

_"Recognise the paint. It's like Michigan; hardcore propellant. I'd say zinc." _

Sherlock shook it and sprayed a horizontal line across the mirror of the vanity unit. The paint was exactly the same as the ciphers.

It was Sherlock who saw it first in the mirror, the slight movement of the costume behind and then the jerk of the mask. Sherlock pushed Alex out of the way just in time before the masked man sprang forward and slashed at him with a curved knife.

Alex fell with a crash into one of the clothes rails and was dazed as she blinked to try and clear her head. She had to help her Uncle.

Sherlock dodged and ducked the blows as he leapt from side to side. They pushed against the flimsy curtain as wrestled the knife away and threw it down. He sprayed the paint in his attacker's eyes. Alex came to her senses and dashed forward to kick the knife under the unit. She kicked the man in the shins at the same time that Sherlock swung a powerful punch to the head.

The attacker fell backwards, only to leap back to his feet in an unhuman-like way. Alex watched in horror as Sherlock was propelled backwards and out onto the floor into the crowd. She knew that John would help now but she was faced with a bigger problem as the warrior turned to face her. He picked up a clothes rail and snapped it over his knee to produce a crowbar.

"Please," Alex whispered.

She was in no way strong enough to fight him. He showed no signs of pity however as he advanced and swiped down through the air. Alex ducked and rolled just in time for the bar to connect with the box beneath her with a sickening thud.

"Help!" she screamed and ducked from another blow.

She managed to pivot on her heel and momentarily distract the Warrior so she could run out onto the stage, him in close pursuit once he figure out her plan.

"John!" she cried.

He swung the crowbar back again and Alex accidently stepped back off the edge of the stage and landed next to a winded Sherlock on the floor. She felt his arm pushing for her to run but she had to help John now. Fortunately, that seemed to be covered as Sarah swung the handle of a broom over the Warriors ribs, causing him to fall. Sherlock used Alex to help him up and pulled off the sock of the man to reveal the black lotus tattoo, just as he had expected.

"Come on," he called and slung an arm around Alex to keep her next to him, John doing the same to Sarah.

**Thanks to:**

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**Unbelievably delicious Benedict Cumberbatch face imprinted virtual cookie hugs to:**

**rycbar15: Yo! Yeah, the cuteness was just making me coo constantly while writing it, I imagined Sherlock and Mycroft fighting over who could spoil Alex the most happening a lot! Homeschooling could be quite beneficial to some of my original cases that I am plotting actually (the next two after the blind banker, I have planned out) so thanks for that! Hope you enjoyed this :) x**

**angelmusiclove98: Hello, welcome to the cult *cackles evilly* Maniacal laughter aside, thank you so much for reviewing and I am glad you like it so far, I loved writing the flashback :) Hope this was okay for you x**

**E.I Cochrane: Hey! Thanks so much for your kind words. The chapter every night is killing me but every time I sit down to do something else, I am just like 'oo! I can do this for this chapter and make Sherlock say this and Alex say this' and my task is immediately abandoned as I dive for the laptop haha. Hope you thought this was good! x**

**Review, it only takes a second and you get a paragraph in return!**

**-Abby**

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	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: All rights go to the BBC, I only own Alex :)**

**Author's Note: Hello again! I am currently on holiday but I have convinced my parents to let me bring my much loved laptop so updates shall continue to be regular :)**

**Enjoy-**

_Previously:_

_He swung the crowbar back again and Alex accidently stepped back off the edge of the stage and landed next to a winded Sherlock on the floor. She felt his arm pushing for her to run but she had to help John now. Fortunately, that seemed to be covered as Sarah swung the handle of a broom over the Warriors ribs, causing him to fall. Sherlock used Alex to help him up and pulled off the sock of the man to reveal the black lotus tattoo, just as he had expected._

_"Come on," he called and slung an arm around Alex to keep her next to him, John doing the same to Sarah._

As soon as they were outside, Sherlock ducked the group into a dank alleyway and scouted for anyone that was following them. John walked over to Alex.

"Are you alright?" he asked, raking his eyes over her like she was one of the many wounded soldiers that he had encountered.

"Yeah," she brushed off airily, "Fine."

John patted the side of her head with a smile and turned back over to Sherlock.

"Anything?"

"No, they must have gotten away…" Sherlock paused, "We need to get to Scotland Yard."

The boys raced to see who could hail the taxi first and Alex looked to Sarah.

"You get used to it," she assured and held her arm out to the dazed looking woman.

They came to a decent looking taxi and Alex knew that John had won the 'hail the cab race'.

* * *

Alex leaned against the desk in Scotland Yard in exasperation; Detective Inspector Dimmock was being particularly difficult. Sarah seemed to be coping reasonably well and just hovered around John, thankfully not getting in the way of Sherlock. Whilst everyone was distracted by arguing with Dimmock, Alex took off her muddy shoe and rolled down her sock to reveal the tell-tale signs of an early, angry purple bruise from her encounter with the Warrior. She covered it back up and tuned into the argument.

"I sent a couple of cars. The old hall is totally deserted," Dimmock sniffed.

"Look, I saw the mark at the circus – that tattoo that we saw on the two bodies: the mark of the Tong," Sherlock insisted.

"Lukis and Van Coon were part of a-a smuggling operation. Now, one of them stole something when they were in China; something valuable," John stated with just as much intensity as his friend.

Sarah just looked at the scene in bewilderment. _What on Earth have she gotten herself into?_

"These circus performers were gang members sent here to get it back," Sherlock continued.

"Get _what _exactly?" Dimmock questioned.

Sherlock pursed his lips angrily and looked down at his shoes.

"We don't know," John replied quietly, not meeting the Detective Inspector's eyes.

"You don't know," Dimmock replied mockingly, "Mr Holmes, I've done everything you asked. Lestrade, he seems to think your advice is worth something."

Sherlock smirked slightly and Alex reminded herself to get some chocolates or cake for her friend.

"I gave the order for a raid," Dimmock spat, "Please tell me I'll have something to show for it – other than a massive bill for overtime."

Alex felt a very strong urge to punch the insufferable man in front of her but she knew that it would only make matters even worse if she did. She therefore settled with screaming insults inside her head at him.

Sherlock glared at Dimmock and turned on his heel out of the door, leading Alex out with him.

* * *

"They'll be back in China by tomorrow," John remarked as he led Sarah into 221B Baker Street.

"No, they won't leave without what they came for," Sherlock countered as he walked over to the photographs, "We need to find their hide-out; the rendezvous. Somewhere in this message it must tell us."

Sarah awkwardly shuffled in the doorway.

"Well, I think perhaps I should leave you to it," she suggested uncomfortably.

"No, no, you don't have to go," John began but unfortunately at the same time as Sherlock said,

"Yes, it would be better to study if you left now."

Alex pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to sink further into the book covered sofa. John threw Sherlock a vicious glare and turned back to Sarah.

"He's kidding. Please stay if you'd like."

Sarah still looked indecisive so Alex stepped in and led Sarah into the kitchen and shut the door.

"Urgh, Sarah living with these boys is an absolute nightmare sometimes," Alex started sadly, ever-so-slightly lying, "Just give it two more hours. We can order a takeaway or something."

Sarah contemplated the idea and brightened.

"Okay, thanks Alex."

Alex nodded and walked back into the living room. She suddenly remembered something and turned back to the woman.

"Oh, and thanks by the way. Without you, I would probably be dead."

And she collapsed into the chair, picking up one of Van Coon's books and reading it.

Sarah just stood still in the kitchen, stunned. There was something in the way that Alex had talked about her own death, so offhandedly and casual. It greatly perturbed Sarah to think what had gone on for the young girl to be so indifferent towards the topic that had most (if not all) fully grown adults shaken to their very souls.

"Sarah?" John's voice broke through her troubled thoughts.

"Hm?"

"Are you okay?" he asked in concern.

"Oh, yeah. Just a bit hungry though," she laughed nervously. There was no point telling John of something that she had no doubt he had already noticed.

John grinned back and began to check in all of the cupboards for anything edible: a jar of rotten pickled onions, an empty fridge and one packet of cheesy puffs. Things were going so well. Determined not to let this spoil his date, John resorted to drastic measures.

"Sarah, could you find a clean glass in that top cupboard, please," John asked.

Sarah smiled and reached up to look for the glasses. John meanwhile casually leaned on the wall into the living room, lifted his fingers and began to tap.

Alex tried to concentrate on the fall of the Roman Empire in the book she was reading but Sherlock's infuriating noise was doing her head in. She tried to turn a deaf ear to it but she couldn't drown it out. She lifted her head from her book to snap at Sherlock when she saw that he was completely still but the tapping still continued. She frowned when she heard that it was coming from the wall. With an amused grin, she realised that it was John tapping out Morse Code. Oh, what a soldier.

Dot, dot, dash, dot… F

Dash, dash, dash… O

Dash, dash, dash… O

Dash, dot, dot… D

Alex furrowed her brow. Food? What about it?

"Oh," she breathed.

It wasn't food. It was the lack of.

She made it her good deed of the day and went down to Mrs Hudson's flat.

"Mrs Hudson?" Alex knocked on the door.

There was a shuffling of keys and the door opened to reveal the elderly woman.

"Oh hello Alex dear!" she smiled and stepped back to let her honorary granddaughter inside her flat.

"Hey, sorry, this isn't really a social visit. There is a little bit of a problem," Alex started.

"Oh, dear. What has happened?" Mrs Hudson fretted.

"Well John has a date around and-"

Mrs Hudson clapped a hand to her mouth.

"But what about Sherlock?!"

"What do you mean?" Alex frowned.

"I didn't picture John as the unfaithful type," she murmured sadly.

"Mrs H, Sherlock and John aren't actually together."

"Oh well at least he broke it off first. He will never find another man like Sherlock though," Mrs Hudson said sullenly.

"I am pretty sure that Sarah is a woman," Alex tried not to laugh.

"A woman?!" Mrs Hudson exclaimed.

"Look, we have no food and he really likes this Sarah woman so would you be able to help us?" Alex pleaded.

"Oh! Of course dearie, come and help me take up this tray up," Mrs Hudson immediately pulled out a jar of punch and some bowls of this and that.

Alex swore that the old woman was psychic.

* * *

"Ooh-ooh," Mrs Hudson called quietly as she sneaked into the kitchen followed by a tray carrying Alex. John had cleverly (or not so cleverly) diverted Sarah's attention from the kitchen by asking her to help Sherlock. Alex winced and placed the tray down and ran into the living room as quickly as she could. She reckoned that John wouldn't be too happy if Sherlock ended up 'accidently' murdering his date.

She decided just to hang back around behind the crates scattered around the floor and silently watch the situation in case things got a little out of hand.

Sarah picked up the photograph of the ciphered wall and Alex resisted the urge to run out just then as she saw the dark look pass over her Uncle's face.

"What are these squiggles?" she asked innocently.

"They're numbers. An ancient Chinese dialect," Sherlock replied stiffly, still not looking up at her.

"Oh, right! Yeah, well, of course I should have known that," she muttered sarcastically, "So these numbers – it's a cipher."

"Yes," Sherlock clenched his fists and forced down his urge to throttle the woman.

"And each pair of numbers is a word."

Alex rose from her hiding spot and Sherlock lifted his head.

"How did you know that?" they both asked at the same time.

Sarah jumped having not seen Alex come in the room but replied,

"Well, two words have already been translated, here," she pointed to two of the ciphers and Alex leaned over Sherlock's shoulder to see as he snatched the paper back.

"John," he called.

"Mmm?" came the reply from the kitchen.

"John, look at this," Alex said.

John shuffled out of the kitchen and came over to Sherlock and Alex.

"Soo Lin at the museum – she started to translate the code for us. We didn't see it! 'Nine Mill'," he read out.

"Does that mean 'millions'?" John asked, squinting down at the writing over the top of the photograph.

"Nine million quid. For what?" Alex asked thoughtfully.

Sherlock nodded at Alex and dashed off to throw on his coat and scarf.

"We need to know the end of this sentence," Sherlock declared.

"Where are you going now?" John asked incredulously.

"To the museum; to the restoration room," Sherlock grimaced with a frustrated look on his face at his own carelessness, "Oh, we must have been staring right at it!"

"At what?"

"The book, John. The book – the key to cracking the cipher!" he took out the photo, "Soo Lin used it to do this! Whilst we were running around the gallery, she started to translate the code. It must be on her desk."

Sherlock swung around the door and scurried down the stairs. Alex turned to follow him when she caught her already bruised foot on the corner of one of the crates. She bit her lip as her eyes filled with water from the impact. Thankfully, John and Sarah were too occupied with the takeaway menu to notice. Alex plopped down onto the sofa and gently probed at her foot. She sucked in a sharp breath and carefully slipped it back into her sock. No doubt Sherlock was already at the museum. She pouted. She wished that she had just ran out after him, now she was stuck with the lovebirds alone like an annoying third wheel.

"Hey Alex, what do you want from the Chinese?" John asked from the kitchen doorway.

Alex craned her neck around to face him from her position on the sofa.

"Um… aromatic crispy duck please," she asked.

John smiled and turned back to the telephone in his hand.

"Yes and one aromatic crispy duck…" he spoke to the person taking their order.

Alex turned back to face the violin in its stand and wondered what Sherlock was up to-

As soon as Sherlock left the flat, he rushed to hail a cab (thankfully not one a single trip away from the scrapheap). However, as he ran over to the curb, he accidently knocked an A-Z London Guidebook out of a German tourist's hand.

"Hey, du! Siehst du nicht wo du hingehst?" the German man shouted indignantly. [Hey, you! Why don't you look where you're going?]

Sherlock turned back almost reluctantly, stooped down to sweep up the fallen guide and handed it back to the man.

"Entschuldigen Sie, bitte," Sherlock apologised. [Forgive me, please.]

"Ja, danke," the man muttered sarcastically [Yeah, thanks], "Und dann sagen die, dass die Engländer höflich sind!" [And they say the English are polite!]

Sherlock pointedly ignored the rude man in his haste and turned back to the roadside. He grunted in a mix between anger and frustration when the taxi he had just hailed drove away in his moment of his distraction. He let his gaze drift to just further up the street where a Chinese couple were consulting an A-Z London Guidebook like the German couple. Sherlock's mind flashed the image of Van Coon's flat in his brain. The London A-Z stood out in a pile of books in his living room. The same with Lukis's flat. His own voice drifted through his Mind Palace and echoed off its glistening walls.

'_A book that everybody would own.'_

Sherlock's eyes widened in realisation as he took off back down the street towards the annoyed German man with the very book in his hands.

"Please, wait! Bitte!" he shouted as he almost barrelled into them.

"Was wollt er? Was will er?" the German Man snarked. [what does he want?]

Sherlock snatched the book out of the man's fingers and held up an impatient hand to stem the flow of objections from the couple.

"Hey, du! Was macht du?" the man shouted. [Hey, you! What are you doing?]

"Minute!" Sherlock barked as he fumbled to open the long searched for. [Wait a minute!]

"Gib mir doch mein Buch zurück!" the man persisted angrily, [Give me my book back!]

Seeing that Sherlock was blatantly ignoring him, the man just wrapped his hand around his wife's waist and turned them both away, muttering about idiotic English people.

"Page fifteen, entry one. Page fifteen, entry one," he flipped to it, "Dead man. You were threatening to kill them. It's the first cipher."

"Thirty-seven, nine; thirty-seven, nine," he continued, "Nine million ... for… page Sixty, thirty-five, Jade… Nine Mill for Jade Pin Dragon Den Black Tramway."

Sherlock raised his head. He had solved it.

Meanwhile, Alex was lazed over the sofa while John and Sarah scavenged some privacy in the kitchen. Urgh, she was so bored. The only entertainment she had was making silent tunes with her intakes of breath. A sudden sharp knock on the door interrupted her breathing symphony.

"Ooh, blimey, that was quick," John remarked as he plodded out of the kitchen, "I'll just pop down."

Alex stood up and walked over to the top of the stairs to help John if he needed it to carry up the bags of food. John walked down to the bottom and opened the door. A hooded Chinese delivery man awaited him.

"Sorry to keep you," John dug around in his pocket for his money, "How much do you want?"

"Do you have it?" the man asked urgently.

Alex frowned and stepped back around the banister out of sight.

"What?" John asked blankly.

"Do you have the treasure?"

Alex swallowed hard as she realised what was happening. It was too late to save John, but there was Sarah. She tiptoed as lightly as she could back into the flat and into the kitchen.

"Sarah, be quiet. You need to get out. Run," Alex hissed, her eyes wide with panic.

"What?" Sarah asked at normal volume.

"Sh!" Alex clapped a hand to her mouth, "Shut up and run, this isn't a joke!"

Sarah seemed to see the urgent and panicked spark in Alex's eye.

"Where?" she whispered.

Alex flinched as she heard the connecting of the butt of a gun against John's head.

"Too late…" Alex trailed off.

In a sudden burst of inspiration, Alex grabbed Sarah roughly by the upper arm and shoved her into the airing cupboard just behind the kitchen door. She shut it and pushed the sofa against it. The heavy footsteps of the man thundering up the stairs bellowed around the whole flat.

"If you want to survive, stay silent and do not open this door for anything," Alex breathed and braced herself. She was not going down without a bloody big fight.

The door thudded has someone threw their whole weight against it. The hinges shuddered and a splinter of wood split from the frame. Alex had to shield her eyes as the door came flying completely off its hinges and smashed jaggedly on to the arm chair.

She stared defiantly into the face of the Chinese man in the open doorway as he seemed to size her up.

Time seemed to freeze.

Her toes curled forward in anticipation.

Her blood pounded in her ears.

Her teeth gritted together.

The man raised his pistol at her.

She narrowed her eyes.

His face tugged into something that could only be described as a smug smirk as he pulled the trigger.

**Dun... Dun... DUN!**

**Thank you to:**

**HiBaRixTsUnA1827FaN XD**

**GottaLoveTen**

**Quills and Scrolls**

**hallo-hannah**

**for following/favouriting**

**Special Uber Duber Super Luper Yuper (don't even know what I am doing) Ruper Wuper Kuper (seriously, what am I doing?) MASSIVE thank you to:**

**rycbar15- Hello once again! I have thought about a oneshot prequel and I think that I may get around to writing one soon :) My laptop overheats so much that it is not even funny... urgh... anyway, Alex is fourteen nearing fifteen. Hope you liked this chapter x**

**Revella- Hey again! Yeah, poor John everything always seems to have a knock on effect on him. I tried hard to make the interaction believable and it went through several rewrites so I am so relieved to know that you think that it is okay *contented sigh*. Hope you liked this chapter x**

**E.I Cochrane- Hi! Glad you liked the last chapter :D Hopefully this was okay for you as well x**

**GottaLoveTen- Hey! Glad you like everything haha. Your encouragement means a lot :D x**

**Scottish Bluebell- Hello! Thank you for your amazing review! I am so glad that you like what I write, it really makes all of the work worthwhile. As I write this, it is so sad as I make their relationship grow closer and closer because I know that the more fluff, the further she will fall (no pun intended haha) but I can't help writing more of it! Hopefully this chapter is okay for you :) x**

**Thank you again to each of you, made my week :D**

**Please Review!**

**Abby**

**X**


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: I only own Alex, Sherlock belongs to the BBC, regrettably.**

**Author's Note: Cheeky little bonus chapter in the same night ;) My friend thought it would be better to do it this way rather than to lose the angst by the end if I had this at the beginning of another long chapter. (if that makes any sense than I applaud you) Warning: Violence... lots. of. violence.**

**Enjoy-**

_Previously-_

_The door thudded has someone threw their whole weight against it. The hinges shuddered and a splinter of wood split from the frame. Alex had to shield her eyes as the door came flying completely off its hinges and smashed jaggedly on to the arm chair. _

_She stared defiantly into the face of the Chinese man as he seemed to size her up. _

_Time seemed to freeze. _

_Her toes curled forward in anticipation._

_Her blood pounded in her ears. _

_Her teeth gritted together._

_The man raised his pistol at her. _

_She narrowed her eyes._

_His face tugged into something that could only be described as a smug smirk as he pulled the trigger._

Alex dived to the floor immediately and rolled to take cover behind the armchair. The bullet whistled through the air and embedded itself just below the mirror. Alex scuttled into the kitchen as the Chinese man hopped over the back of chair and pursued her. Alex heard the man's movements and grappled for a chair. She broke of one of the wooden legs and threw it with all of her force. It collided with the side of man's face. He put a hand to his cheek and Alex took this opportunity to force the table against the man and trapped him against the wall, forcing him to drop his gun. He grunted at the pressure but swung his legs sideways over the table top and crawled at alarming speed toward her. He grasped her face tightly and pushed her backwards, slamming her spine into the fridge.

Alex cried out in pain and brought her knee up to the man's chin. He groaned as his jaw made a sickening crack and began to hang disgustingly to the side.

"Should not have done that child," he mumbled sinisterly, blood dripping from his mouth.

Alex involuntarily shivered as she scooted further away. He stood up and stalked towards his gun. He curled his fingers around its cool metal and smiled sadistically at the surges of power it sent through his veins.

"I could shoot you," he suggested, "or I could beat you."

Alex felt a bitter taste of panic rise in her throat as the Chinese man reached for the knife on the table top.

"But I think I may cut you."

Her bottom lip trembled. She was trapped in the corner with the man advancing on her like a tiger on meat. He raised the blade and brought it down on her shoulder.

Alex screamed as pain flared through her jaggedly cut skin. Blood oozed thickly from her wound, staining her clothes. She gritted her teeth and tried to block out the horrendous agony. Just as the man brought the knife to her again, his mobile began to ring. It didn't wait to be answered however; just one word was screamed out in a droning mechanical voice.

"ALLLIIIIIVEEEEE!"

The man paled dramatically and threw down the knife like it had burned him. He turned back to Alex and gulped audibly. He seized her arms and pinned them behind her back. Her face contorted in excruciating agony as he stretched her wound. Spots invaded her vision, making her dizzy and unbearably sick. She barely felt the small pin prick in her neck that had caused the nausea but flailed her legs out nonetheless in a futile attempt to cling on to consciousness.

Alex vaguely remembered hearing Sarah's shuddering breaths as her face was pressed against the airing cupboard door before dragging her nails down the wall as her muscles weakened and her head lolled back into her captors arms as she was effortlessly dragged away like a rag doll, blood staining the carpets from her battered form. Her heart longed for her Uncle to save her and stop the pain.

**OOOH Sherlock's not going to be a happy bunny after seeing what they have done to his little girl...**

**Thank You's will be in the next chapter :)**

**Reviews are gold dust!**

**-Abby**

**X**


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: Still not mine unfortunately... *drones out in mechanical voice* I do not and never will own Sherlock. All rights go to the BBC **

**Author's Note: So now poor Alex has been through torture. I would love to say that now Shan saw the error of her ways and threw out her spear for a candy cane and everyone lived happily ever after. The End. But... I regret to say that this doesn't happen. **

**Enjoy-**

_Previously:_

_The man paled dramatically and threw down the knife like it had burned him. He turned back to Alex and gulped audibly. He seized her arms and pinned them behind her back. Her face contorted in excruciating agony as he stretched her wound. Spots invaded her vision, making her dizzy and unbearably sick. She barely felt the small pin prick in her neck that had caused the nausea but flailed her legs out nonetheless in a futile attempt to cling on to consciousness. _

_Alex vaguely remembered hearing Sarah's shuddering breaths as her face was pressed against the airing cupboard door before dragging her nails down the wall as her muscles weakened and her head lolled back into her captors arms as she was effortlessly dragged away like a rag doll, blood staining the carpets from her battered form. Her heart longed for her Uncle to save her and stop the pain._

Sherlock grinned in triumph. He had translated it. He had solved it. He had won the game.

Bounding around the corner to head back to the flat, Sherlock sensed something was wrong. The door was open slightly ajar, not a mistake that John would make. He walked slowly over to the steps and his breath caught in his throat as he saw a tiny crimson splatter of blood on the path. He creaked open the door and advanced up the stairs, his ears straining for any sign of life.

_Please not Alex,_

_Please not Alex,_

_Please not Alex,_

Sherlock stood in the broken open doorway and surveyed the scene. The sofa was pushed right back against the airing cupboard door, the legs had been broken off the dining room chair. Shrapnel from the shattered door lay all over the floor. Sherlock looked frantically in the kitchen and immediately wished he hadn't. A pool of deep scarlet blood stained the white tiles and the wall. Too much blood.

It was then that Sherlock heard the sobbing. His ears pricked up and he followed the sound eagerly. Alex! She could be in there! She could be safe! He ripped the sofa away from the cupboard door and swung it open.

"Alex?" he called, panic evident in his voice.

A woman came bursting out and wrapped her arms around Sherlock's neck. But it wasn't Alex.

"Sarah!" Sherlock exclaimed in surprise and disappointment.

She still clung to him.

"I am sorry, I am so sorry Sherlock," she muttered through her tears.

Sherlock pulled her away from him and steadied her.

"What happened?" he asked intensely.

"T-the delivery man. John went to get the f-food and Alex came running up and shoved me in here. S-said that the man was going to kill us. She shoved this across," she motioned to the sofa, "and j-just faced him. There was a… oh God… there was a gunshot and- and she ran into the kitchen. She must have hit him with something 'cause I heard him shout. Then… oh I am so sorry," she sobbed.

"What. Happened?" Sherlock shouted furiously.

"I just heard a scream and everything went silent…" Sarah put her face in her hands and just wept.

Sherlock stared at one piece on the mantel. Alex. They had her. They hurt her. His top lip curled upwards to bear his teeth.

"Sarah, go home. Don't come back here unless John rings you," Sherlock ordered sternly as he took out the paper with the translated ciphers on it out of his pocket.

Sarah nodded tearfully and threw on her coat.

"I am so sorry Sherlock," she said one final time and walked out of the door.

"Not as sorry as they are going to be…" Sherlock murmured under his breath before taking off himself. He knew where they would be, the cipher took care of that. Now there was only the Black Lotus to take care of, no one messed with his niece.

* * *

John groaned as he regained consciousness, wincing at the graze on the side of his head. He realised that he was tied to a chair in a dark tunnel and immediately began to struggle. He had to get out. He knew that he had been taken by the Black Lotus, that much was evident. He remembered the delivery man saying 'have you got it?' and mentioning something about treasure. John suddenly remembered that if they had been at Baker Street, there were others in the flat other than John that could have been taken. Alex and Sarah.

John turned his head and gasped when he saw Alex tied up next to him, her face bruised and bloody.

"Alex?" he whispered, fearing the worst.

"Alex," he repeated a little louder when there was no reply.

The girl began to stir and moan as her eye lashes fluttered open.

"Jo-" she whimpered. It hurt too much to speak.

"Alex, are you okay?" he asked urgently. _Wow, what a stupid question._

She just gritted her teeth and John saw the beads of sweat running down her agonised face.

"Where are you hurt?" John tried to shuffle closer to help her or at least see her injury.

Alex opened her mouth to answer him when she snapped it shut and seemed to convulse slightly. The pain in her shoulder was unbearable. She knew that he had cut through muscle and possibly bone.

"I know you are in pain, but I need to you to speak to me so I can help you, _where are you hurt_?" John asked gently.

"She will not answer Mr Holmes," a voice said from the shadows.

Alex's eyes snapped up in fear as John sat up straighter.

"A book is like a magic garden carried in your pocket," the voice said as they stepped forward.

Alex saw that she was a Chinese woman clad in leather and donned tinted sunglasses.

"Chinese proverb, Mr Holmes," the woman continued.

"I ... I'm not Sherlock Holmes," John started, "What have you done to her?" he nodded towards Alex.

"Do not worry about your precious niece Mr Holmes, she will soon be put out of her misery," the woman smiled sickly.

"I am not Mr Holmes," John repeated, greatly uneasy about what had just been said about Alex.

"Forgive me if I do not take your word for it."

The woman reached inside his pocket and pulled out his wallet.

"Debit card, name of S Holmes," she read out.

"Yes; that's not actually mine. He lent that to me," John corrected.

"A cheque for five thousand pounds made out in the name of Mr Sherlock Holmes."

"Yeah, he gave me that to look after."

"Tickets from the theatre, collected by you, name of Holmes."

"Yes, okay… I realise what this looks like, but I'm not him."

"We heard it from your own mouth. 'I am Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone'," she quoted fro earlier in the case.

"Did I really say that?" John muttered, "I suppose there's no use me trying to persuade you I was doing an impression."

The woman pulled out a pistol and aimed it directly at John's head. John's eyes widened as he struggled to back away from it.

"Stop," Alex rasped, her face contorted with fear for her friend and agony.

"I am Shan," the woman revealed.

"You are- _you are _Shan."

"Three times we tried to kill you and your companion, Mr Holmes. What does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight?" she asked as she leant in further.

She cocked the gun and pressed it to his head.

"Please!" Alex choked out, "Kill me instead."

John looked to her in shock and turned back to Shan.

"Sh-she doesn't mean it. She is delirious, ignore her," he pleaded but Shan already looked to Alex in thought.

"Strange girl you are Miss Holmes," she remarked as she thankfully retracted the gun and approached her.

"Leave her alone," John ordered.

Shan ignored him and leant down to Alex's face.

"It is a shame," she stroked a bruise on Alex's cheek, "She didn't have to be hurt like this… but she was a naughty girl. She broke one of my men's jaws. So she had to be punished," Shan span the chair around so Alex's injured shoulder was facing John.

John took a sharp intake of breath at the sight. The wound was deep and way too much blood was being lost.

"Please, she is just a child, leave her alone," John tried, staring into Alex's pain filled orbs.

"Not before you tell me what you have. If we wanted to kill you Mr Holmes, we would have done it by now. We just wanted to make you inquisitive, that is why I went to your school disguised as Laura," Shan told Alex, "we knew your dear Uncle over there would figure it out. And figure it out, he has, haven't you Mr Holmes. Where is it?"

"Where is what?" John asked in confusion.

"The treasure," Shan pressed down lightly on Alex's shoulder, causing the young girl to cry out.

"Please leave her alone, neither of us knows what you're talking about," John rushed out.

Shan turned away toward some of her men.

"I would prefer to make certain."

One of the men approached a blanket covered object and removed the cover. Alex's stomach contracted painfully as she realised what was happening.

"Everything in the West has its price; and the price for _her_ life," Shan ran her finger across a shallow scrape on Alex's chin, "_Information."_

Alex looked at John desperately as two men picked up her chair. The wooden back of the object and the men's hands rubbed roughly against her bare flesh and badly bruised back (from where she was slammed into the fridge), causing her to scream in pain. She was dropped down onto the floor in front of the contraption from the circus earlier. Alex bit down on her lip to stem her shrieks, and they subsided to excruciated sobs.

One of the men loaded the machine with a crossbow aimed directly at Alex's heart. Alex just stared at its razor sharp tip and took a shuddering breath.

"Alex, I am so sorry," John murmured, his heart clenching at her screams.

She gave him a weak smile to signify that it wasn't his fault, but the tears mingling with the blood on her face tore his attention away from her mouth.

"Where's the hairpin?" Shan demanded.

"What?!"

"The Empress pin valued at nine million sterling. We already had a buyer in the West; and then one of our people was greedy. He took it, brought it back to London and you, Mr Holmes, have been searching with your pretty little niece here."

"Please. Please, listen to me. I'm not ... I'm not Sherlock Holmes. You have to believe me. I haven't found whatever it is you're looking for. But when the real Sherlock Holmes gets here, that girl's real Uncle, he is going to be mad as hell with you," John threatened darkly. She didn't know what was going to hit her.

"I need a volunteer from the audience!" Shan declared loudly, unfazed by John's threat.

She turned to a crying Alex and gave an exuberant smile.

"Ah, thank you, lady. Yes, you'll do very nicely."

"Please!" John exclaimed loudly.

Alex just watched in horror as the same blood stained knife that had slashed her shoulder plunged into the sandbag, causing the sand to leak out, each grain ticking away at the time Alex had left alive.

* * *

Sherlock sat in the back of a cab, nervously chewing his thumb. Alex was hurt, badly. The blood told him that. His insides felt like they were punctured with glass as he imagined all of the different scenarios that could have befallen his beautiful little girl. Sherlock pictured her when she was younger. She was so innocent, with her big blue eyes and soft skin. Her tiny little body tucked up in his bed when she stopped the night on weekends when her mother was still alive. He remembered the time in the summer when Maybelline had organised to have a barbeque around Mycroft's. Terribly dull, the sort of thing that ordinary people do, but May always was the most normal one. She had brought a four year old Alex around in a summery white dress with flowers on and sandles that didn't quite fit. She splashed around in Mycroft's outdoor pool and chased the staff with buckets of water.

If she got a _paper cut_, Sherlock felt awful, but now, with the puddle of blood and her supposed screams, Sherlock was about to murder someone.

* * *

Alex looked hopelessly at the jagged spear pointed at her as Shan began to taunt both John and her again.

"Ladies and gentlemen. From the distant moonlit shores of NW1, we present for your pleasure Sherlock Holmes' dear little niece in a death-defying act."

"Stop!" John yelled.

"You've seen the act before. How dull for you. You know how it ends," Shan told Alex with mock sadness as she placed an origami lotus on her lap, "Look, it is special this one. It only makes sense that you have made it, so you should die with it."

Alex looked down at the flower and saw sure enough that in small intricate gel pen was the golden letters _Alessandra Holmes_. How fitting.

"John," Alex swallowed against the pain that flared up from talking, "Tell Sherlock I love him. And, oh God, and Mycroft too. Tell them that it isn't their fault and sorry that I didn't get to say goodbye," tears now cascaded down her flushed cheeks, "Tell them thank you for everything. And Molly, Anthea, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson. And you John. I haven't known you for that long but you are one of the nicest and kindest people I know... just... thanks," Alex finished off with a choked sob as she thought of her dysfunctional family that she would never see again. She would never feel her Uncle Sherlock's arms around her again.

"Oh, how lovely," Shan jeered, "Wasn't that lovely Mr Holmes?"

"_I'm not Sherlock Holmes!"_ John stressed frantically, his eyes welling up at Alex's words.

The weight was getting closer and closer.

"I don't believe you!" Shan snapped.

"You should, you know," a deep voice said.

Alex perked up, she knew that voice anywhere.

"Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him. How would you describe me, John? Resourceful? Dynamic? Enigmatic?" Sherlock suggested.

"Late?" John offered, never taking his eyes off Alex who somehow was growing paler by the second.

"That's a semi-automatic. If you fire it, the bullet will travel at over a thousand metres per second."

"Well?" Shan asked as she raised her pistol to the shadows.

"Well," there was a thud as Sherlock knocked one of Shan's henchman out with a metal pipe, still concealed in the shadows, "the radius curvature of these walls is nearly four metres. If you miss, the bullet will ricochet. Could hit anyone. Might even bounce off the tunnel and hit _you_."

Sherlock promptly dashed out of the darkness and sent a flaming bin rolling over and slipping back into the shadows. Shan lost her aim as John craned to find his friend in the dark.

Sherlock stalked over to behind Alex and fiddled with her bonds.

"Al' are you okay? Where are you hurt?" he asked frantically.

Alex gritted her teeth together to stop from screaming again and revealing Sherlock's position as he unknowingly pressed on her shoulder.

"Alex?" Sherlock prompted as he came to crouch in front of her.

He still couldn't see the blood on her face or spouting from her shoulder in the darkness.

"Sherlock watch out!" John exclaimed as one of the henchmen threw a satin red scarf around Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock grappled with the scarf as it slowly began to choke him. He lifted his hands to try and claw at it. Deciding that the tactic wasn't working and he was slowly running out of air, Sherlock brought his leg crashing back into his holder's stomach. He doubled over in pain and Sherlock took this opportunity to dive back to Alex and undo her bonds. The weight was so close to the bowl that Alex just closed her eyes, knowing as Sherlock was pulled back for a second time that there was no escape.

She braced herself as silent tears streaked down her face and flashes of the people that she never got to say goodbye to swam around her head. She could be with her mother again though. After eight years, they could be together again. If you had told Alex that eight years ago, she would have jumped at the chance, but now, she didn't want to go.

John realised that Sherlock wasn't going to break free in time as the weight was almost touching the bowl. He attempted to stand up, only to fall sideways and crash to the floor in a heap.

Alex began to feel lightheaded from the blood loss and it was the best news she had heard all day. At least if she was unconscious, she wouldn't have to feel the spear impale her skin or feel the life leave her body. She was drifting but still unfortunately awake.

Sherlock wrestled with the man behind him and watched in agonised horror as the weight brushed against the bowl.

In one last, final attempt, John swung out his legs and knocked the machine sideways at the last second. The spear shot out but instead of hitting Alex, it buried itself in the chest of Sherlock's attacker. He fell to the floor with wide, dead eyes and sprawled out on his back with the spear protruding from his chest.

Sherlock shook the scarf off as John untangled his bonds. Shan and the last remaining henchman took flight down the tunnel, but neither Sherlock nor John could care less. They both ran to a barely conscious Alex.

"Careful," John warned as Sherlock began to undo the bonds around Alex's hands.

Sherlock sent John a questioning glance and John just pointed to the girl's shoulder. Sherlock followed John's finger and his eyes rested on the gaping wound.

"Oh my God," he breathed.

He very carefully untied the ropes and helped John to lower Alex to the floor.

"I need your scarf," John ordered and Sherlock obliged without hesitation.

John pressed the scarf over the laceration.

"Keep her awake," John told Sherlock.

Sherlock took Alex's limp hand in his own.

"Hey Al'. Hold on to my hand as tightly as you can okay. Don't let go of it," Sherlock said gently.

He felt her small fingers curl around his in a loose grip.

"I was thinking of the barbeque today you know," he began as he smoothed Alex's hair down with his free hand.

John looked at him for a moment before going back to his task of cleaning up the cut.

"Do you remember it?" Sherlock asked.

Alex's closed eyes fluttered open again slightly.

"A little," she whispered and winced as it hurt her back and shoulder.

Sherlock's heart broke as he saw the pain that was inflicted upon his baby.

"You had a dress on. It was the only time your mother had been able to convince you to wear one," Sherlock laughed thickly, "You taught Mycroft rock, paper, scissors and he taught you how to count to ten in French. Do you remember?"

"Yeah…" Alex said softly, her eyes slowly beginning to close again.

It was like she was there, but not really in her body. Like she was watching the scene being played out in front of her on a battered old video set filled with static. She could feel but she couldn't really _feel._

"No, no Alex. Keep your eyes open for me, okay?" Sherlock pleaded.

"Sherlock, she needs to go to hospital, now," John informed him quietly.

Sherlock nodded and phoned for an ambulance.

* * *

The next few hours passed in a blur for Alex. She vaguely remembered being in the ambulance and wished she could forget the stitching but everything else just seemed to mould into a bit of a blank.

* * *

Sherlock sat at his sleeping niece's bedside, his hand entwined with hers, absentmindedly brushing his thumb over the top of her skin.

John knocked quietly on the door and slipped in holding two cups of coffee.

"Here," he said, handing his friend the other cup.

"Cheers."

John settled himself on Alex's other side and took a sip of his drink.

"When did Mycroft leave?" he asked conversationally.

"About twenty minutes ago. He thinks he may have found the man whom escaped with Shan," Sherlock replied.

"Well that is good news then," John said optimistically.

"He is the one who did this," Sherlock gestured to the array of bruises and scrapes and finally the heavily bandaged shoulder.

John's face took on a dark look.

"Even better. I don't suppose you and Mycroft may need some assistance in your interrogation?"

Sherlock smirked slightly,

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

John picked up the medical chart that hung off the end of the bed and read it. He looked faintly sick. How someone could do that to an innocent child was beyond him. When Sherlock reached for the chart, John shook his head.

"You won't like it," John warned.

Sherlock just gave him a look. John begrudgingly handed it over.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," he muttered.

Sherlock's eyes scanned over the words and set his jaw, giving the chart back without looking. He turned back to Alex and fitted the written words with the physical injuries. The bruised face, the lacerated shoulder, the sprained back- he couldn't go on.

He picked up a lock of Alex's hair and twisted it beneath his fingers. At least she was alive.

On that thought, his phone began to buzz.

"Hello?" he answered.

"_Sherlock, we have found him_," his brother's voice informed him.

"Are you sure that it is definitely him?"

"_Positive. How is she?" _

"Still asleep. I am thinking of locking her in Baker Street for the rest of her life with guards outside the door."

_"I second that. When she wakes up, ring me and let me speak to her."_

"Of course. Oh and John will be accompanying us to the prison," Sherlock added.

_"Excellent. The more the merrier. Goodbye Sherlock."_

"Goodbye Mycroft," Sherlock flipped his phone shut, "Moron."

"Wow, that conversation was actually civil, excluding your little comment there," John remarked.

"Yes well, only for Alex's sake," Sherlock said.

A comfortable silence fell over the hospital room.

"I like your thought by the way," John complemented.

"Hm?"

"About locking her up in Baker Street. I third that."

Sherlock smirked and turned back to Alex's sleeping form.

**Author's Note: **

**I had to write more fluff, it is only fair to Alex. We can be sure of a very different interrogation in store for our Alex basher in the next chapter ;)**

**This fanfic has now officially taken over my life -_- I spend about four of five hours on it every day and sometimes more... I just... urgh... sleep is foreign to me now. It is worth it though when I see how many people like what I write :)**

**Thank you to:**

**PaleMoonlitAngel061**

**Megthegoodtwin**

**for following/favouriting :)**

**HUGE MASSIVE ENORMOUS THANK YOU TO:**

**tinuviel21- Hey! I am very sorry about the cliffhanger, I couldn't resist, haha. I am looking forward to writing the interrogation scene where Mycroft, Sherlock and John will be able to release their anger *evil laughter* Hope you liked this chapter x**

**Megthegoodtwin- Hello! I am very glad that you like what I write :) Hope this chapter was okay for you x**

**rycbar15- Hi again! OOOO cliffhangerrrrsss! I always awww when Sherlock thinks of Alex as his little girl, it is just so cute :) I hope you thought that he was angry enough but I think he was more concerned in this chapter, next chapter is when his Mycroft and John's temper is really unleashed :D Hope you liked this chapter x**

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**-Abby**

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	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to the BBC, I own nothing. NOTHING! *sobs hysterically* Oh, I own Alex. *sobs subside***

**Author's Note: Hello again! I actually got some sleep last night so feel somewhat alive today :) long may it continue! This chapter is mostly the interrogation which gets a little bit violent. What? He stabbed Alex! HE SHALL BE PUNISHED! Little bit of Alex and Sherlock fluff at the beginning but of course, being Alex, things don't exactly go smoothly...**

**Enjoy!-**

_Previously-_

_"Goodbye Mycroft," Sherlock flipped his phone shut, "Moron."_

_"Wow, that conversation was actually civil, excluding your little comment there," John remarked._

_"Yes well, only for Alex's sake," Sherlock said._

_A comfortable silence fell over the hospital room._

_"I like your thought by the way," John complemented._

_"Hm?"_

_"About locking her up in Baker Street. I third that."_

_Sherlock smirked and turned back to Alex's sleeping form._

Sherlock was reading one of his books that John had brought over for him when he felt Alex's hand twitch from underneath his own. He immediately put down the book on the bedside table and placed his free hand on Alex's arm as she stirred. John had fallen asleep over in the armchair next to him.

"Come on, Al'" Sherlock coaxed gently, placing a hand on her cheek.

Alex leaned into his familiar touch and her eyes fluttered open.

"Hey, sweetheart," he smiled a rare genuine smile.

Alex gave him a sleepy grin and winced as she tried to sit up.

"Whoa, not yet, just lie back and I will wake John," Sherlock told her.

"No," her voice was raw and scratchy, "don't wake him up."

"Don't worry, I am up," John announced.

He had been awoken by Sherlock's words, not that it wasn't a nice way to wake up; he had been waiting for Alex to wake up for twenty four hours now. John shuffled closer to her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, looking closely at her face and checking her notes. He didn't trust the hospital staff.

"Fine," her voice cracked.

Both men gave her a disbelieving look.

"Better," she corrected under their gaze.

Sherlock smiled gently at her. Alex looked back at him.

"What happened?" she asked.

Sherlock paused.

"Don't you remember?"

Alex chewed her lip as she tried to recall the events that had her in the hospital in the first place. It was like waking up and groggily trying to salvage details of the dream you had dreamt the previous night.

"I remember… well… oh Sarah! Is Sarah okay? Did they find her?" Alex frantically asked, beginning to sit up painfully.

"Hey you, lie back down, Sherlock has already told you once," John told her sternly, "And Sarah is fine thanks to you, they didn't find her in the cupboard. You probably saved her life."

Alex blew out a relieved breath.

"Do you want some help to sit up so you don't injure yourself?" Sherlock suggested, mostly speaking to John.

John nodded his consent.

"Yes please," Alex replied meekly.

Sherlock gently lifted her under her arm and propped up the pillows to make her comfortable. John came to her left side and dealt with her injured shoulder.

"If this hurts, tell me right away and you will have to lie back down in case the wound reopens," John explained in an expert tone.

He very delicately supported her shoulder blade as he lifted her up into a sitting position. She hissed as it stung slightly and John looked almost ready to lie her back down.

"I am fine," she reassured and relaxed back into the pillows.

"So what else do you remember about what happened in the flat?" Sherlock asked hesitantly, ignoring the warning glare from John.

Alex cast her mind back as the details became clearer.

"I heard John get hit so I hid Sarah but he had already seen me around the bannister so I had to face him otherwise he would look for me and find Sarah. He pointed a gun at me and I ducked. I ran in the kitchen and shoved the table into him but he just climbed over and g-grabbed my face," Alex took a shuddering breath and Sherlock placed a reassuring hand on her arm, "he pushed me into the fridge and it hurt. God, it felt like when I fell off the wall at Mycroft's when I was eight. So I kicked him in the chin and broke his jaw. His face just changed. It was so scary, like Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde. He started saying how he could beat me (which he had already done) or shoot me (which he had already tried) but then he picked up the kn- the kn…" she trailed off as she remembered what happened.

"Knife?" Sherlock offered quietly.

Alex nodded and looked down at her bloodied bandage wound around her shoulder.

"I am so sorry Al'" Sherlock apologised sadly as he wrapped an arm around her (mindful of her injury).

She buried her face in Sherlock's neck.

"I want to go home," she mumbled.

Sherlock chuckled lightly, his chest rumbling comfortingly.

"Not quite yet, Alex. You lost rather a lot of blood from your shoulder," Sherlock explained softly, running his hands up Alex's bare arm.

Alex huffed and pouted as she realised she had an IV line stuck in her arm leading to a plastic bag full of deep red blood.

"Yeah… um you might be in here for about a week," John admitted.

Alex rolled her eyes at him.

"And who suggested that?" she wondered in mock thought.

"Oh just some Army Doctor. I have forgotten his name but he was quite charming. And funny. And handsome. And-"

"Alright!" she cut him off laughing.

Sherlock sent John a grateful look, just happy that he could hear Alex laughing again. John subtly gave a small nod and turned back to banter with his patient.

"Oh Alex," Sherlock suddenly remembered as he took out his mobile phone, "Mycroft wanted you to ring him when you woke up."

Alex took the phone from Sherlock's outstretched hand and dialled her Uncle's number.

"_Hello?" _Mycroft answered.

"Hey Uncle Mycroft," Alex's voice began to get a little heavy with fatigue.

"_Alex! Are you okay? Is your shoulder hurting? Are Sherlock and John with you? Are the hospital staff treating you appropriately?"_ Mycroft rattled off.

"Whoa Uncle Mycroft calm down," Alex giggled softly, "I am feeling better than before, my shoulder is aching just a little bit, Sherlock and John haven't left my side and I can't really remember being with the hospital staff but I am sure that they did a good job."

_"What do you mean, you can't remember?"_ Alex heard the worry in his voice.

She frowned when she saw the same concern reflected in Sherlock and John's faces.

"Well… I have just woken up… I can't remember because I was sleeping wasn't I?"

Sherlock reached out and prised the phone out of Alex's hand.

"Mycroft, I will ring you back in a minute," he didn't wait for a reply; he just slammed down the lid and turned to Alex.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked anxiously.

John put a hand on her back and helped her to lie back down. She wasn't really in any condition to resist.

"I think you should go to sleep now," he ordered gently.

"No! I want to know what the big problem is," she argued.

"Alex," Sherlock warned sternly, "do as John tells you."

Alex rolled her eyes and her gaze fell on the calendar in the corner of the room. It had been the 21st of September when she was taken by the Black Lotus, it was now the 29th. Alex froze.

"Come on," John said.

"No. I want to know why I can't remember the last eight days. I can't have slept, so tell me," Alex said in a forced calm.

Sherlock and John exchanged glances.

"Al'," Sherlock started and put a hand to Alex's trembling face, "Just relax. Close your eyes and go to sleep. John and I will figure this out okay," he soothed.

Alex stared back into Sherlock's eyes and saw only truth. She nodded and sighed as she closed her eyes and did as she was told.

"Good girl," Sherlock whispered, "Sweet dreams."

Alex managed a small smile before sleep took her. Sherlock immediately let go of her face and walked over to the medical chart. John buried his head in his hands.

"Why does this keep happening?" he groaned.

"I don't know John!" Sherlock snapped.

John froze. He didn't think that he had ever heard those words uttered from his friend's mouth.

"Yes, yes. Get over it!"

John shook his head to clear it of the thoughts spinning around his head and joined Sherlock at the foot of the bed.

"She doesn't have any head injuries that could have caused her amnesia," he remarked.

"Every time she wakes up, she can't remember the previous time," Sherlock muttered.

He came over and picked up his phone again. Dialling his brother's number, Sherlock put it to his ear.

"Mycroft?"

"_It has happened again hasn't it?" _his brother's weary voice guessed.

"Yes. We need to interrogate the man, I have a feeling he may be behind it, or at least know who is," Sherlock told his brother.

_"I know what you mean, I have the same thought. I have a car waiting outside to take you and John to the man known as Dao. I will meet you there."_

The line went dead.

"Mycroft has a car outside to go to Dao," Sherlock informed John as he pulled on his coat.

"Dao?"

"The henchman, Dao is apparently his name."

John nodded and pulled his own jacket. The two men walked to the door but Sherlock hesitated suddenly and looked back at Alex. She looked so vulnerable just laid there with her dark curls splayed out behind her pale face. John put a hand on Sherlock's shoulder, understanding how hard it must be for his friend.

"She will be okay Sherlock. She is perfectly safe here and she will just be sleeping. She won't even know that we have been gone," John reassured.

Sherlock nodded. Of course he was being stupid. She was in the best place she could be and she was completely fine just sleeping.

He closed the door quietly and turned on his heel down the long, too white corridors.

* * *

The car journey was silent and it didn't take long at all to arrive at what seemed to be an abandoned warehouse.

"Oh, how original," Sherlock commented.

John snorted as he climbed out of the car.

"Time to give him hell?"

Sherlock smirked,

"Exactly."

They were escorted through the warehouse by one of Mycroft's many armed men that were patrolling the scene. Clusters of soldiers were gathered together, some discussing tactics, some undergoing firearms training. John recognised it immediately as one of the secret training bases that he had once been in. The soldier leading them was well-built with a shaven head and a questionable tattoo embedded in his skin behind his left ear.

"Mr Holmes is waiting for you both inside sir," he addressed Sherlock and motioned to a door to the left of them.

Sherlock nodded his gratitude and advanced toward his brother, John close behind him. Opening the door, they were greeted with the sight of Mycroft stood in front of a cell surrounded by soundproof glass.

"Hello brother," Mycroft greeted without turning around.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Sherlock commented as he stood closer to the glass to see Dao huddled in the furthest corner.

"Do you mind if we go in first?" Sherlock asked, motioning to John and himself.

"Do your worst," Mycroft invited and stood back to reveal a sliding door. It slid open at Mycroft's touch on the biometric scanner and John and Sherlock entered.

Dao didn't even seem to be afraid as Sherlock walked over to him and crouched to his level.

"Hello Dao."

"Hello Mr Holmes," he greeted back with a snarky grin.

"Ah, you got it the right way around this time," John said from his position beside Sherlock.

"How is your little girly? How is the shoulder?" Dao jeered.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he brought the back his hand sharply across the man's face.

"You don't get to mention her," he spat.

"Why not?" Dao challenged, wiping blood from his mouth, "Did I bring back bad _memories_?"

It was John this time that shoved him roughly against the cell wall, one hand high behind his back.

"What have you done to her?" he hissed.

Dao just laughed. Sherlock stepped forward and yanked a handful of the man's hair out. Dao gasped in pain.

"That stopped you laughing. Now what have you done to my niece?" Sherlock repeated angrily.

Dao mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key. John kicked him hard in the back of the knees, causing him to buckle and fall to the ground. Sherlock drove the heel of his foot into the man's shoulder blade. The collar bone broke with a horrendous crack that filled the air, but Sherlock just kept applying pressure. Dao clamped his mouth shut.

The door slid open once more to reveal and irate looking Mycroft.

"Dao, you have no idea what you have done, do you?" Mycroft began as Dao looked up at him from his position on the ground.

"Oh yeah. I remember very clearly. It is quite fitting actually; the name Dao means knife, or sword. I remember savouring every scream that left your niece's mouth as I ripped through her skin with that beautiful knife," Dao gave a twisted smile and licked his lips.

Mycroft saw red and slammed down the point of his umbrella into the man's forearm as Sherlock increased the pressure on Dao's broken collar bone. Dao squirmed and tried not to scream himself but finally failed as John brought down his fist on his face, the crack of both his arm and nose breaking.

"Stop!" he yelled.

Sherlock thrust his face close to Dao's bloodied one.

"Is that what she said?" he spat through gritted teeth, "Is that what my little girl pleaded with you to do? Did she scream for you to stop? Did you stop? _Did you?!"_

"No," Dao choked and cried out when Sherlock kicked his broken bone once more.

"Then neither will I. Now tell me what you did to her," he barked.

Dao hesitated.

John jolted his foot sharply into the side of his head.

"Fine!" he cried, "Fine. I gave her a drug as I took her from the flat under orders," he relented.

"What drug? Under who's orders?" Mycroft demanded.

"An amnesia pill. When she sleeps, the brain slows down its normal activity. The pill jumpstarts it and speeds it back up. The brain can't cope with the speeds in which it is processing and has to shut something off so it doesn't shut down completely. It resorts to the thing using up most of the energy, which is the memory and wipes the records so to speak of the previous day before she fell asleep," Dao explained through gritted teeth, the pain starting to blur his vision.

"But that kind of pill would have worn off by now," John countered, "That was nine days ago."

Dao took a few shallow breaths.

"The… the doctor who has been treating her… he put it in the blood transfusion. We told him that we could ruin his career if he didn't."

Sherlock's head snapped up to John in alarm.

"It is being pumped directly into her bloodstream. Isn't that type of thing dangerous?"

"Sometimes fatal if it is messing with her brain like that."

All three men paled.

"Dao, I wish I could say that it has been a pleasure, but the only pleasure I would gain from this visit would be to put a bullet through your head. Unfortunately, I believe there to be a whole hoard of training soldiers outside who can take care of it. They may not get the fatal shot at first but perhaps after a few hits to the leg or stomach, they just might get your head," Sherlock leered and turned to walk away.

"Wait!" Dao caught his leg.

Sherlock writhed out of his grasp and glared at him murderously.

"What?"

"W-would you spare me if I give you information?" Dao asked with wide, terrified eyes.

Sherlock pondered the thought.

"That depends if the information is worth sparing your life for."

Dao licked his bloodied lips nervously.

"About our sponsor."

Sherlock frowned and couldn't help a feeling of de ja vu.

_"You'd be surprised. I 'ave a sponsor," Jeff the Cabbie said smugly._

"Tell me more," Sherlock ordered.

John and Mycroft allowed Dao to sit up and wipe the blood off his chin.

"H-he gave us passage into England. He said that we had to get your attention and give Alessandra Holmes the drug. He told us what to do with her and Doctor John Watson. It was part of the deal that we give her the drug."

"Why?" John pressed.

"He said 'just to say hi'."

Sherlock kneeled down once more to Dao's eye level,

"What is your sponsor's name?" he asked fiercely.

Dao began to sob.

"I can't… I am sorry."

Sherlock shook him roughly, jolting his broken bones.

"M…M…"

"SAY IT!" Sherlock roared.

"Moriarty!"

Dao fell to the floor limp and unmoving. John (ever the doctor) knelt at his side and took his pulse. There was no throb beneath his fingers.

"He is dead," John muttered in disbelief, "How can he be dead?"

Sherlock looked down at the corpse of Dao thoughtfully.

"Take off his shirt," he ordered, a sudden idea flashing in his head.

"What?" John wrinkled his nose.

"Didn't you hear me? Take off his shirt."

Mycroft looked at his little brother curiously before he caught on.

"Do it Doctor Watson,"

John undid the buttons on the man's shirt with disgust; he didn't want to touch the filth that hurt Alex. Under the garment was freshly forming bruises from the boys but the only mark that Sherlock was interested in was the scar across the man's chest. He pointed to it.

"Pacemaker," he explained, "Someone turned it off by remote control."

"Who has the technology to do that?" John murmured.

Sherlock straightened up.

"Someone powerful, my guess is Moriarty, it happened as soon as his name was mentioned. The moment he said 'M' the pacemaker was turned off, giving him fifteen seconds for his heart to completely give in."

"Jesus," John breathed.

"I will have my men deal with the body. I believe our niece is in need of some company, dear brother. Anthea has already called Lestrade and is having the doctor in charge of Alex arrested," Mycroft said.

Sherlock nodded and allowed John to exit out of the door first. He took one last look at Dao's body and smiled to himself. Justice had been done.

**Moriarty just got even more evil... It took me quite a while to come up with some way that Moriarty could kill Dao while not actually being in the room and also showing how powerful he is. Hopefully you thought that was convincing enough :)**

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**ginniehex**

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**E.I Cochrane- Hello again! Haha, yes my updates are becoming more and more frequent, I am pretty sure that I have worn the print off my keyboard. Thank you so much for your continued support, I know I can always count on a lovely review from you! Hope this chapter was okay :) x**

**tinuviel21- We should all be terrified of the wrath of John Watson... haha, thank you so much for your review, it really made me smile. I hope you enjoyed this chapter :) x**

**rycbar15- Ah the woes of life... Thank you once again you amazing person for reviewing every chapter that I post :D I love writing about Alex and Sherlock, especially the fluff (you can never have too much ;)) Hope you liked this chapter :D x**

**Megthegoodtwin- John in doctor is the best :D I loved writing him being protective since I imagine him seeing Alex as a good friend/niece of his own. The flashbacks are always fun to write since Alex being little = fluff. I heeded your advice and put down the laptop to sleep and I feel like a completely different person haha! I don't feel like death anymore so thank you for that! Hope you liked this chapter x**

**GottaLoveTen- Yup, the interrogation was written. Dun... dun... dun. It was quite terrifying to write to be honest so goodness knows what it was like to read. I love the word by the way Brirrifying copyright- GottaLoveTen haha. Hope this chapter is okay x**

**xXSchmayXx- Hello! Thank you so much for your review, it made my day :D I am so glad that I have inspired you, having been inspired myself by countless authors on . It was a given that a teenage girl would fit in well with the Holmes brothers because that is their polar opposite and sometimes, opposites attract. The fact that it is also a given that they would be protective of her is also fairly reassuring for me so that I wouldn't have to make them too out of character (thank God for Moffat and Gatiss eh?) I really like Anthea's character so I love her having a bigger part in Alex's life. I try very hard not to make Alex exactly like Sherlock because I have read way too many fanfictions that have done this and they really do get quite boring when you are seeing the same things over and over again. Sorry for the enormous reply but you have spent your time giving me a long, lovely review so I feel that I should return the favour. I hope you liked this chapter! x**

**Once again and enormous thank you to everybody who reviewed. I am only thirteen so any comments are greatly appreciated because I aspire to be an author and (as I expressed in an earlier chapter) my English teacher couldn't really care less about my work.**

**Please review!**

**-Abby**

**X**


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: Nope I only own Alex, all rights to everything apart from her go to the BBC**

**Author's Note: Hello! I really liked writing this chapter since it gets quite humorous towards the end ;) Oh and of course an appearance from a certain boyfriend...**

_Previously-_

_"Pacemaker," he explained, "Someone turned it off by remote control."_

_"Who has the technology to do that?" John murmured._

_Sherlock straightened up._

_"Someone powerful, my guess is Moriarty, it happened as soon as his name was mentioned. The moment he said 'M' the pacemaker was turned off, giving him fifteen seconds for his heart to completely give in."_

_"Jesus," John breathed._

_"I will have my men deal with the body. I believe our niece is in need of some company, dear brother. Anthea has already called Lestrade and is having the doctor in charge of Alex arrested," Mycroft said._

_Sherlock nodded and allowed John to exit out of the door first. He took one last look at Dao's body and smiled to himself. Justice had been done._

Alex awoke to the feeling of a scratchy blanket on top of her. All she had to do was inhale the scent to know that she was still in the hospital. She groaned and rubbed her eyes. She was quite surprised to see that neither Sherlock nor John was with her like they had been for the previous four days since they had interrogated Dao.

Alex pulled herself into a sitting position and marvelled at the work of the painkillers that she was on. Before now, she had to have John lift her up because of her back and shoulder but she didn't even wince.

"Time to get out of here then," she muttered and she swung her legs over the side of the bed.

Her now swelling free feet brushed against the cold floor for the first time in two weeks. Now was the tricky part. She knew that when you didn't use your muscles for that length of time, they grew weaker. Holding tightly onto the handrail next to the bed, she heaved herself up and swayed slightly. The room span but soon bounced back into focus.

Phase Two. Alex pulled off the disgusting hospital gown that she had been forced into and pulled on her baggy leggings and loose fitting shirt. The shirt proved to be more difficult because of her shoulder. The first three buttons she left undone so as not to aggravate the still healing wound, thereby subconsciously making the shirt she was wearing a little less modest than she intended.

"Hm," she said as she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror.

Excluding the ugly facial damage and eyesore sling, she looked a little more appealing than usual, possibly from the obscene amount of beauty sleep that she had been getting. It was then that she realised that she had missed the deadline with Logan. It was meant to be two weeks last Monday that they were due to establish their relationship.

"Well," Alex sighed, "Better late than never."

She shuffled over to one of her bags that carried her stuff that had been brought over by John. She pulled out her barely used makeup bag.

Exactly one hour later, Alex turned to the mirror to admire her handy work. Her onyx curls were pulled back from her face with a deep red hairband, causing her hair to pool down her back in shimmering rivers. Her bruises were covered by her never before used foundation, causing her porcelain skin to take on a little more colour and her eyes were lined with a thin strip of black eyeliner.

Nodding in satisfaction, Alex pulled on a knitted fuchsia coloured beanie hat to cover her face. After being laid up in a hospital bed for two weeks, she just needed to rebel. She reached up to the IV line that led to a now drug free blood bag and pulled. She flinched as the needle caught one of her veins causing a steady trickle of blood to ooze down her arm. She growled in annoyance and held the rolled up hospital gown to the crook of her elbow. Thankfully, the small cut soon stopped bleeding and Alex was over to the window.

The room led to the back of the hospital away from the road so she didn't need to worry about being spotted and it was only two floors up in the private section. Thank goodness for having such an important Uncle. She opened the window and perched precariously on the sill. If she hadn't been recently injured, Alex would have just dropped and rolled but with her shoulder in the condition that it was in, she quickly decided against her usual tactic.

"Drainpipe seems good to me," she said aloud and latched her fingers firmly around the pipe.

She took a deep breath and slipped from the safety of the window to wrap around the drainpipe. Alex buzzed with the familiar feeling of liberation, just hanging by her own two hands, there was nothing better.

It didn't take long to shimmy down and land lightly just outside the fence of the hospital. She was officially free. Taking her phone out of her pocket, Alex dialled in Logan's number.

"_Hello?"_

"Hey Lo'" Alex grinned into the phone as she slipped behind a tree.

_"ALEX! Where the hell have you been?!"_

"Oh you know, got beaten up, drugged and kidnapped. Just the usual," Alex twizzled a piece of hair around her finger casually.

_"Oh my God! Are you in hospital?"_

"Well, I _was_."

_"Where should I meet you?" _Alex could almost hear the smirk in his voice.

"The park just around the corner from your house. I am literally a five second walk away from it," Alex replied.

_"On my way!"_

Alex grinned and slammed her mobile shut as she hopped over the low bar fence leading into the park next to her. In no time at all, Alex saw the approaching form of Logan jogging towards her. He stopped abruptly and took in her appearance with his mouth hanging open.

"Liking what you see?" Alex teased.

Logan struggled for words. He was used to seeing her with some corpses blood matted in her hair or with tatty school uniform on not looking… well… _sexy._

"Y-you l-look uh," he stuttered.

"Oh shut up," Alex pulled him by his collar and brought her lips crashing up on his.

Logan immediately bowed his head to meet her level (being a head taller than her) and wrapped his arms around her waist. Alex felt heat rush to her cheeks and felt like she was bustling with electricity. All of her senses peaked as she moaned in satisfaction. Logan pulled away slightly and rested his forehead against Alex's.

"I feel like I am taking advantage," Logan whispered huskily.

"And why would that be?" Alex smirked up at him.

Their noses now touched.

"Because you are young and naïve. I am sixteen, you are fourteen."

"Almost fifteen," Alex corrected as Logan leaned back in to kiss her gently.

Alex once again began to buzz with excitement as soon as his lips brushed against hers.

"And that makes _all_ the difference," Logan jested, nuzzling Alex's blushing cheek with his nose.

His face suddenly lost its grin and drained of its entire colour.

"Logan?" Alex frowned

He just stared over her shoulder.

"What?"

Logan nodded behind her with a terrified look on his face. Alex braced herself, expecting to see a Chinese operative holding a gun to the back of her head. Instead, she turned and found something much, _much _worse.

An irate looking Sherlock Holmes stood in the middle of the path, glaring murderously at Logan.

Alex's eyes widened as she whispered to Logan.

"Run, don't look back. Lock the door and do not under any circumstances slow down next to a big black car."

Logan span on his heel and sprinted back the way he came back to his house. Alex grimaced as she turned back to Sherlock.

"Hey… Uncle Sherlock," she laughed nervously.

Sherlock just glowered at her.

"Car. Go. Now," he ordered through gritted teeth.

Alex immediately stooped her head and walked hastily over to the same big, black car that she had warned Logan about. She opened the door and sunk down in the seat next to John and opposite Mycroft.

"What were you thinking Alessandra?" Mycroft barked, an angry glint in his eye.

"I just got bored," she mumbled quietly, "Sorry."

"Didn't quite hear you!" Mycroft yelled.

"I am so sorry Uncle Mycroft. I was going to come back in a few minutes, I just wanted a bit of fresh air honestly!" Alex said sincerely.

Mycroft stared at her intensely for a few more seconds before his face softened and he opened out his arms. Alex wasted no time in burying her face in the crook of her older Uncles neck.

John smiled slightly at the scene as Sherlock slipped in next to him.

"So where were you Alex?" John asked.

"Oh just the park next door," she answered evasively, her voice muffled by Mycroft's suit.

"Oh yes, just the park next door," Sherlock spat, "In the park next door shoving your tongue down Logan Baxter's throat."

"WHAT!?" John and Mycroft exclaimed.

Anthea's head whipped around from her position in the front seat.

"Seriously? Was he good?" she asked excitedly.

Anthea was met by four glares and an eye roll from the driver. She raised her hands in surrender and turned back to face out of the windscreen, secretly listening.

Alex winced and slowly retreated out of her Uncle Mycroft's stiff arms, remembering her conversation in his living room a few weeks previously.

"Well this is awkward," she whispered under her breath.

"What the hell were you doing with Mr Baxter?" Mycroft asked in a forced calm.

Alex coughed uncomfortably,

"Um… he was worried when I told him about," she gestured to her shoulder, "so he um… well I kissed him. Then he kissed me."

Sherlock had his hand clenched so hard that his knuckles were turning white.

"Look, I am a big girl now," she defended, a little irked by their overreaction.

John decided to speak, seeing that Sherlock and Mycroft were not going to,

"So are you and this _Logan _boy together then?"

"Yes," she answered truthfully and turned to her Uncles, "It was going to happen sooner or later. Everyone that I know got their first boyfriend when they were eleven."

"You are only fourteen though," Sherlock snapped.

Alex repeated what she had said to Logan,

"Almost fifteen."

Before Sherlock could retort, the driver pulled up onto the curb outside Baker Street. Alex promptly dashed out and sped up the stairs up to her bedroom before she could get interrogated any more.

Sherlock, John and Mycroft sighed as they watched the teen sprint inside before following themselves.

"I thought we may have a little longer," Mycroft shook his head slightly.

"She's growing up, you can't stop it," John remarked, slightly confused at the Holmes brothers' reaction.

Sherlock just huffed and dragged out Alex's suitcase into the flat.

* * *

Later that day, Alex shuffled into the living room out of boredom more than anything. She had been up in her bedroom just staring at her ceiling and pondering the last couple of weeks. She had been beaten, stabbed, drugged, kidnapped, almost killed, knocked unconscious, locked up inside a soul-draining hospital for two weeks, and then kissed her first boyfriend. Well, it no one could say that it hadn't been eventful.

But now she was done with her brooding and was seriously bored out of her mind.

"Hey Sherlock," she greeted her Uncle warmly.

Sherlock looked up from his book.

"Hello Alex."

She flopped down next to him and threw her legs over him lazily. Sherlock was silent for a few seconds before throwing down his book and facing his niece.

"What do you want?"

"I am bored," she whined.

"Go and shoot the wall," he muttered distractedly.

He paused.

"On second thoughts, don't shoot the wall."

John took this moment to emerge from the kitchen with a plate full of jam on toast.

"Oh hey, Alex. What are you doing down?" he asked pleasantly.

"Bored."

John looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Why don't we play a board game?" he suggested.

"No, Sherlock always cheats," Alex sighed.

Sherlock sat up straight in his chair.

"I do not cheat!" he spluttered.

Alex gave him a disbelieving look.

"I wouldn't want to play a mind rotting board game like some common sheep," Sherlock sniffed.

"Aww, is little Sherlock scared that I will beat him?" Alex mocked.

Sherlock looked properly offended but soon morphed into a look of 'purr-lease'.

Alex narrowed her eyes at him and put her hand underneath the sofa. She patted around amongst the dust, pens, pennies, decomposing limbs and finally, three battered boxes of board games. She pulled them out in a cloud of dust and laid them on the table.

"Choose your game," she ordered to Sherlock.

He leant forward and propped his elbows on his knees as he inspected the boxes. The peeling covers of _Monopoly, Kaplunk _and_ Scrabble _stared back at him. He pushed Monopoly to the side. Way too easy. It was now between Kaplunk and Scrabble. Deciding that Scrabble was slightly more intelligently inclined, therefore giving him an advantage, Sherlock picked up the game and cleared the table of Kaplunk and several books.

John sat in the arm chair. Alex gave a small nod at the game choice, a deadly serious look on her face. She walked slowly to the bookshelf and pulled out three different dictionaries. _The English Concise Dictionary_, _Collins Pocket Dictionary_ and _Little Monster's First Alphabet_ from when Alex was little. She smirked; she could see a brawl in the making.

She made her way purposely gradually and placed the three dictionaries down on the table, spreading them out so the boys could clearly see the covers. She had her eye fixated on _The English Concise Dictionary_.

"On the count of three, choose your weapons. One… Two," John and Sherlock began to rise from their seats slightly, "… Three!"

Alex dived for her dictionary and pulled it immediately to her chest safely. Her book had been secured.

Both Sherlock and John had thrown themselves forward to the _Collins Pocket Dictionary_, neither wanting to be lumbered with the three year old vocabulary in the other alternative. Sherlock managed to secure the book in his long fingers just a second before John, making the man scowl.

"It isn't my fault that you are too sl-"

John dived on Sherlock, cutting off his sentence and sending them both toppling over the back of the sofa. The book skidded out from Sherlock's hand and landed two feet away from both of their noses. They exchanged glances before shoving the other back to get to the book. John pulled Sherlock's purple shirt by the collar. Sherlock coughed and spluttered as his air supply was temporarily cut off. John used his friend's moment of incapacity to lunge forward. Sensing John's movements, Sherlock twisted his knee into his flat mate's back and managed to grasp the book. He stood up in triumph and thrust the dictionary on the air. John grumbled as he dejectedly pulled himself up and had to endure Sherlock's smug grin. But not for long. As Sherlock turned back to the table, John stepped up onto the armrest and jumped onto Sherlock's back. Sherlock spun around in surprise and John swiped the dictionary from his loose grip.

"VICTORY!" John shouted, his face splitting into a beaming smile.

Sherlock scowled and dropped back into the sofa. He grudgingly picked up the _Little Monster's First Alphabet_.

"Amazing, the strong feelings that dictionaries can provoke," Alex remarked.

John flopped into the armchair as Alex settled on the floor and lifted the crumbling lid off the box.

"Before we begin, make your promises," Alex declared.

John frowned in confusion, having never played by the Holmes rules.

"I will start," she said, "If I win, you both have to decrease my 'lockdown' to two weeks."

"Three," Sherlock negotiated automatically.

Alex rolled her eyes but nodded,

"And if I lose, I will do all of the washing up for the next two weeks."

John took his go,

"If I win, you two have to wear those matching jumpers that I bought for you both," Alex and Sherlock shuddered, "And if I lose, you get to burn them."

Alex and John turned to Sherlock, both eager to hear his promise.

"If I win… I get to do the full corpse dissection that I have been wanting to do in the living room. If I lose… hmm… If I lose, I will change my name to Jennifer," he promised confidently.

Alex burst out laughing at the prospect and vowed to play her very best.

* * *

Three hours later, John came in from the kitchen holding out three mugs of tea.

"Here you go Alex. Here you go Jennifer," John smirked as he handed out the tea.

Alex took her mug and brought it to her lips as she tried not to laugh.

"Hey, I would have won if you hadn't spelt quasar with a 'z'," Sherlock cried for the thirteenth time.

"It is an alternative spelling," John defended shortly.

"Yeah, in Uruguay maybe!"

"Jennifer, admit defeat gracefully," Alex chided, failing at keeping a straight face.

"I don't know what you are laughing at," Sherlock retorted, "You are washing these mugs up remember."

Alex's face immediately dropped the grin as she remembered the fact. Any further arguments were postponed however when a knock at the door sounded. Alex and Sherlock bolted up and opened it, hoping to God that it was a case.

You can imagine the confusion of Gregory Lestrade's face when he saw Alex and Sherlock stood before him with matching black jumpers with white writing saying 'Dweedle Dee' and 'Tweedle Dumb' and a smug looking John sipping his tea with his feet up on a harpoon-smashed coffee table.

**I always pictured John forcing Sherlock into a novelty jumper, haha. Next up is a case that I have spent the last week or so thinking up so *fingers crossed* **

**Thank you to:**

**loveinfinity**

**carolinagirlfromsc**

**to following/favouriting :)**

**UNBELIEVABLY MASSIVE BEAR HUG THANK YOU TO:**

**Jaz Soph.25.11- I am so glad you still like it! I was worried in case people may review a couple of times and then get sick of it but you have proved me (thank goodness) wrong! Hope this one was okay :) x**

**E.I Cochrane - Hi again! I love updating every night because I know how I feel when I am waiting for the fanfictions that I read (which are a lot!) to be updated. And it isn't like I have a life haha. Hope you liked this chapter, I just thought that we needed a little bit of humour after so much angst x**

**rycbar- Hello again! I cannot tell you how much your review meant to me. I have always wanted to be an author so for your words to say that you think I am good enough. I posted my story on here because I wanted to better my writing and take hints and tips from the amazing writers (such as yourself) on so to know that I have improved means that the last month or so hasn't been a complete waste of time haha!****Words cannot express my gratitude and if I ever become an author, I will email you even if it is in twenty years time and thank you for your support. ** Thank you so much for your amazing reviews on every chapter, I couldn't ask for a better reader ;) I hope you like this chapter x

**LaughingWith- haha, true to your pen name! I am glad you like it and thanks for reviewing, those six words made me smile so much! Hope you liked this chapter :) x**

**tinuviel21- Hey again! Yeah, I was planning on making the chapter a bit longer but then I wrote 'justice had been done' and I was just like right I have to end here, haha. I thought that I needed to have some sort of twist since nothing is normal wherever the Holmeses are concerned so the amnesia just was a given. Thank you for your kind words on my writing and Moriarty seriously is evil but loveable. But mostly evil. No, mostly loveable. No, definitely mostly evil. I don't know! *bursts into tears* Hope you think this chapter is okay :) x**

**loveinfinity- Hey, I am so glad you like it haha! *clears throat* okay, question one, Sherlock and Alex were just joking around in the first chapter to show straight away how close they are without exclaiming 'I LOVE YOU!' at the top of their lungs which would be just a tiny bit OOC haha. The pink powder will come into play in the next chapter or the chapter after. Just know that she left it in _someone's_ desk in Scotland Yard... Thank you so much for your praise, it really means a lot. I hope you liked this chapter x**

**Xin0Lan- Hey again! Yeah, Dao deserved everything he got. I owe the name meaning to an amazing website with all names from different countries and their meanings :) I really don't envy that doctor but he was in a tricky situation. Not that Mycroft or Sherlock would really care about that. Your description of Moriarty is chillingly accurate... Thank you for your lovely words and I sympathise completely with having to rush-read, it sucks but thank you once again for taking the time to give me such an amazing review (as usual) Hope you liked this chapter x**

**Revella- Hello again! No problem, even if you review once, you always make it long, detailed and lovely and always full of tips and incentive to keep me writing. I try to make my plot lines and conversation original so I am glad that you think that as well. Your words in the ps moved me so much. WOrds cannot express my gratitude and if I ever become an author, I will email you even if it is in twenty years time and thank you for your support. I really hope you liked this chapter :) x**

**GottaLoveTen- Hey! Congratulations, you have won the award for the craziest review I have ever received. I burst out laughing this morning, waking my extremely disgruntled Labrador up haha. ALAS, BRIRRIFYING STRIKES AGAIN! Your Moriarty/teddy bear comparison is unrivalled haha. Thank you for making me crack a few ribs this morning and I hope your hilarious reviews continue for this chapter ahah x**

**Whoa, I was blown away by the amount of reviews for that last chapter so thank you once again to each of you :) **

**Please Review**

**-Abby**

**X**


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, I only own Alex :)**

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! I just realised very early this morning that this fanfiction is exactly a month old *sobs* they grow up so fast...**

**(Brirrifying- GottaLoveTen ;D)**

**This is the beginning of my original case, enjoy-**

_Previously-_

_"I don't know what you are laughing at," Sherlock retorted, "You are washing these mugs up remember."_

_Alex's face immediately dropped its grin as she remembered the fact. Any further arguments were postponed however when a knock at the door sounded. Alex and Sherlock bolted up and opened it, hoping to God that it was a case. _

_You can imagine the confusion of Gregory Lestrade's face when he saw Alex and Sherlock stood before him with matching black jumpers with white writing saying 'Dumb' and 'Dumber' and a smug looking John sipping his tea with his feet up on a smashed coffee table._

Lestrade looked between the three of him and shook his head.

"I don't even want to know," he muttered.

"Do you have a case for us then?" Alex asked eagerly.

"Someone is keen," he smiled, "And yes."

"Why have you come to us? What is strange about it?" Sherlock questioned.

"You will have to just come and see," Lestrade told him, "When you have time, make your way over to St Bartholomew's Hospital, private ward forty seven."

Alex stiffened.

"That was the ward I was on wasn't it?" she frowned.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes in thought and nodded.

"Well, a body has been found there with something a little but strange in their hand," Lestrade informed them.

John looked to Sherlock bemusedly.

"We will be right over," Sherlock decided and shut the door in Lestrade's face.

"Sherlock, I wish you wouldn't do that," Alex moaned as she heard Lestrade's cursing and heavy thuds down the stairs.

"Why waste my breath saying goodbye? A swift tap of a door does exactly the same job," he snipped.

John pulled on his coat and Alex put on her shoes. Sherlock just stood staring at the wall in thought.

"Sherlock?" John snapped his fingers in front of Sherlock's face.

Sherlock shot out of his stupor and pulled on his scarf.

"Well come on then!"

* * *

On the first floor, the trio were approached by Sally Donovan.

"Oh great, the freaks are here yet again!" she groaned dramatically.

"You really ought to stay away from mirrors Sally," Sherlock mocked.

Sally opened her mouth to retort as Alex pushed passed unnoticed and into the room that she had been staying in for the past two weeks.

The room was void of the forensic team, having been sent out under Sherlock's orders. Lestrade, John, Sherlock and Donovan were stood arguing outside so Alex was alone. The white floor was stained with a pool of deep red blood. From just behind the bed, Alex could see a pale, almost translucent hand peeking out on the floor. She made her way over to it and crouched down to the body of a man.

Alex looked behind her and was glad to see that the room was still deserted. Deciding to put Sherlock's teachings to the test, she began to mutter out loud.

"Puncture marks on the abdomen and chest. Looks about fifty, with more frown lines than laugh lines so obviously having quite a stressful job. The lines are very prominent meaning that he has been in the job for a while but he hasn't left, probably because of money so it is a well-paid job. He is wearing a casual yet smart shirt and trousers, not something to go out in so once again for his work. That rules out any uniformed jobs or without a dress code. A man who clearly has a body odour problem and has a grand theft auto wristband would not wear attire like this by his own accord," she paused and reached into his trouser pocket. Her fingers caught against some kind of paper. She pulled it out to reveal a rolled up post it note with the words MAU written on. The rest of the word was ripped off.

"Probably ripped by the murderer," a voice said from behind.

Alex gasped in surprise and turned to find Sherlock smirking at her.

"Jesus, don't do that, you will give me a bloody heart attack! How long have you been stood there?"

"About half way through your little monologue there. It would have been impressive if I hadn't been me," he answered cockily.

Alex rolled her eyes and straightened up.

"Was I right then?"

"Pretty much. Learnt from the best eh?"

"Yeah, Mycroft was so generous that day," Alex teased and ducked a playful swipe to the head.

"You did forget to mention the lock though," Sherlock commented.

"The lock?" Alex frowned.

Her Uncle pointed around to the other side of the body and sat in the left hand was a small silver padlock.

"What the-?" Alex muttered as she crouched down to inspect the object carefully.

Sherlock gazed at his niece thoughtfully. She caught him staring from the corner of her eye and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Alessandra, how would you feel if I told you to take this case on your own?"

Alex's eyes widened in disbelief and she stumbled back a step.

"W-what?"

The corner of Sherlock's mouth twitched upwards.

"Under certain conditions of course."

"Anything," Alex replied instantly, "Just tell me and I will abide by them."

"Rule one: you show me every clue you find," Sherlock rattled off in his usual hundred-mile-an-hour speed, "Rule two: you confide every deduction that you make to me. Rule three: you tell no-one but John and I about our agreement. Rule four: you do not under any circumstances go off on your own. Rule five: if it gets too dangerous, I take over without complaint. Rule six: if John or I give you any instruction, you obey immediately."

Alex nodded slowly as she absorbed her regulations.

"What if… John tells me to run and you to stay?"

"Obey me. I am cleverer than him and therefore am more adapt and experienced in keeping you safe," Sherlock replied easily.

Alex chuckled fondly as her Uncle turned to rescue John from Donovan. Once he was out of sight, Alex bounced on the balls of her feet excitedly and let out a silent 'fangirl' scream. She was going to be in charge of an actual case! She had always just followed Sherlock, now she was flying solo. It was going to be brilliant. But terrifying… oh what word could describe that… um… Brirrifying!

"Has Sherlock found anything yet then?" Lestrade asked as he popped his head around the corner.

"Oh, um no. Well, yes. He is going back to the flat to investigate. He has pictures," Alex lied, remembering condition three.

Lestrade gave a cheerful nod and backed out of the room.

"Pictures," she muttered to herself, "There's a thought."

Alex took out her camera phone and snapped a few pictures on different angles just like Sherlock did. Satisfied with her handy work, she smiled to herself and stuffed the evidence in her pocket. She took one last look at the body laid on the floor and did something that she had never seen Sherlock do. She knelt down next to him and gently closed his eyes with the tips of her fingers.

"Don't worry, I will find who killed you. This is my case now so your murderer better watch out," Alex told the corpse softly and squeezed his lifeless hand, hoping that she gave him some comfort in death.

Alex straightened up and walked back out onto the steps of the hospital where Sherlock and John were waiting.

"Got everything you need?" Sherlock asked.

"Do we know his name? The body I mean," Alex asked.

"Nope, he was found with no wallet or phone so we have no clue who he is, that is another thing that you have to find out," Sherlock smirked and held out his arm for her to take.

* * *

Back at Baker Street, Alex had printed off the photos from the camera and stuck them onto the mirror and was staring at them intently. It made no sense, the lock. It just… why? Why would someone place a lock in the palm of someone that they had just killed?

Sherlock sat in the far corner of the room secretly reviewing his niece's work. If she was to take over from him one day, she would have to be able to solve cases on her own.

Alex put her hand in her pocket to pull out a tissue when a piece of paper fluttered to the floor. Frowning, she picked it up and realised that it was the post it note from the body with the printed letters MAU on them. It had to be from the place where he worked, there was no other explanation since he was still in his uniform and clearly hadn't gone home before he was killed.

Walking over to the computer, Alex murmured the letters over and over in her head. She couldn't help but feel that she had heard them before. She pulled out the keyboard and typed in MAU. The first thing that came on the drop down box was MAURITIUS, the country. Alex shook her head. It couldn't be the country. The second suggestion was MAURICIO POCHETTINO, the footballer. Definitely not.

Deciding that her technique was getting her nowhere, she took out the post it note again and carefully scrutinized the font. The writing was golden in colour and the letters looped majestically, obviously from a successful company. She just needed to find which one. She typed in 'jobs at Mau…' to see what the suggestions were on . JOBS IN MAURITUS came up first again and was instantly ignored, it clearly had nothing to do with the country. Second this time, was JOBS AT MAUDSLEY HOSPITAL in South London. That could be it! That would explain the hospital connection. Alex clicked on the site and found the telephone number in the contact us section.

"Sherlock, could you throw me your phone?" Alex asked without taking her eyes off the screen.

He obliged and threw the blackberry to her.

Alex punched in the number and pressed the green button.

"Hello welcome to Maudsley General Hospital, this is Sandra Claire speaking. How can I help?" the receptionist gushed out in one breath, obviously having well-rehearsed the speech.

Alex put on her best 'adult, serious business' voice.

"Hello, my name is Detective Inspector Jenkins and I am calling from Scotland Yard as part of a murder enquiry. Could I please speak to your manager?"

Sherlock grinned proudly at Alex's convincing voice and language.

"Oh, of course. I will put you on straight away!" the receptionist vowed and shuffling ensued from the other end of the phone.

Alex thought the woman was probably just glad of some excitement.

"Hello?" a male voice spoke.

"Hello, I trust your receptionist has informed you of the nature of this phone call?" Alex supposed.

"Yes, yes. A murder!? Good grief!" the man exclaimed.

"We have reason to believe that one of your staff may have been involved," Alex informed him solemnly.

"Involved? Like a victim or the murderer?!" Alex could hear the man working himself up into a fret at the prospect that one of his employees could be a killer.

"Please remain calm, sir. We do not know for sure if any of your staff are involved at all and I am afraid that I cannot disclose any more information than that. Now, would you be able to send me a list of all of your employees please with their files attached to Lestrade_Gregory please," Alex requested professionally.

"Lestrade? I thought your name was Jenkins?" the manager said suspiciously.

"Oh Detective Inspector Lestrade was my predecessor before he got promoted. We haven't had time to change it what with the suicides, that I am sure you know about, happening recently," Alex smoothly pulled the man's attention away from the name.

"Oh yes, terrible business, terrible business. I will send the files over immediately and do keep me updated with the situation."

"Of course. As soon as we get any news concerning your staff, I will contact you immediately," Alex assured, "Thank you for your time."

Alex closed the phone and let out a breath. She turned suddenly when she heard clapping and saw John leaning against the doorframe with an amazed look on his face.

"Where did you learn to lie like that?!" he breathed.

"I prefer to call it manipulating. Lying sounds like something children do to find an excuse for their missing homework."

"Call it what you will, that was pretty damn impressive," John complemented, "Just one thing, how will you get the email from Lestrade's computer?"

Just then, a whoosh sounded from the computer.

"I have everybody's emails on separate tabs on the computer. All I need to do is encrypt the email and change the subject to make it look like junk mail," Alex explained simply.

She double tapped on the header of the email and typed, _PPI reclaim has helped over 3000 different… _There was no way that Lestrade was ever going to open that. Inside the email were the profiles of over two thousand employees. Alex groaned and put her head in her hands.

"Uncle Sherlock, can you help me?" she asked innocently, batting her eye lashes for good measure.

"No," he replied blankly, "I need to know that you can cope with a case completely on your own so no help from John or I."

Alex grumbled, turned to the computer screen and clicked _print_.

Two hours later, the enormous pile had been split into male and female. Alex resisted the urge to throw the female pile out of the window but instead opted for just shoving them to the side. All there was left to do now was sort through the one thousand, one hundred and thirty five male employees to find a picture that matched the body.

Four hours later, Alex was beginning to droop. Dusk had settled outside the window and John had put on the little glowing lamp in the corner of the room that always made Alex feel ten times more sleepy than she was. Sherlock was currently writing a new essay on his website _The Science of Deduction _and John was chatting to Sarah over email. Alex sighed and turned to the next person.

_Matthew Horris_

_29_

_Consultant_

Nope. Picture didn't match. Reject pile. Next one.

_Daniel Mauston _

_35_

_Assistant manager _

Nope. Picture didn't match. Reject pile. Next one.

_Lawrence Adams_

_27_

_Cleaner_

Nope. Picture didn't match. Reject Pile. Next one.

_Finley Strasburg _

_53_

_Paediatrician _

Nope. Match didn't picture. Reject Pile. Next one.

_Mark Austin_

_32_

_Therapist_

Nope. Batch picture doesn't wrong one, no… Pile Reject… next… hm, something smells nice, this carpet is comfortable, maybe just one min-

Alex's head fell forward into the pile of sheets with a dull thud as the urge to sleep overcame her. Sherlock looked up with mild interest and held his hand out to John.

"Cough up."

John grumbled and fished around in his pocket for a fiver.

"I thought she had more self-restraint than that," John sighed as he handed over the money to Sherlock.

"Unfortunately, Alex must take after her father for the amount of sleep she needs. It is like having a car that won't get to the end of Baker Street without having to be filled up. She does have the Holmes lack of appetite however, so that is something to make up for it."

"Did you ever meet her father?" John asked curiously.

A dark look passed over Sherlock's face.

"No, but I would like to, for Maybelline _and_ Alex's sake. Though, I would have to find a suitable gun to take," he muttered venomously.

Seeing that it was a touchy subject, John cautiously worded his next sentence,

"I know that you must be angry with him for doing that to your sister but without him, Alex wouldn't have been born so…"

Sherlock's face softened as he stooped down to pick up his sleeping niece.

"I suppose so. It doesn't stop me from shooting him now though."

John chuckled and carried on emailing Sarah. Sherlock brought Alex into her room and laid her gently on the bed. He took off her shoes and cardigan and pulled the covers up to her chin.

"Goodnight Alex," he murmured softly as he stroked her fringe out of her face and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Alex subconsciously snuggled further down into her pillow. Sherlock smiled at her lovingly and was immensely glad that she seemed to have grown out of the nightmares that used to plague her.

"You did well today. Better than I did when I was your age, but then again I didn't have anyone to teach me... apart from Mycroft but he was off at university by then. You're lucky really, you have two teachers. One is obviously fifty times better than the other but you still have us both. I wish time could stand still right now. You are getting older now and soon _you_ will be the one off to university and I will be left here annoying John," Sherlock laughed quietly, "… I don't want you to grow up Al'. Stay a little girl forever, or even a stroppy teenager, I don't care just… don't leave me."

Sherlock let out a deep breath, gave Alex a final kiss and walked back into the living room with John.

"Never," Alex whispered into the dark and allowed herself to float back to sleep again, knowing that she would be with her Uncle until the day she died.

**Author's Note- Little bit of Alex and Sherlock fluff going on there. I was watching the sign of three and began to sob as Sherlock left on his own so I thought that a little bit of bonding was in order for my own mental sanity :)**

**Thank you to:**

**xXSchmayXx**

**Moriartylives**

**for following/favouriting**

**HUMONGOUS EXTRA SPECIAL THANK YOU TO:**

**Megthegoodtwin- Hey again! Thanks for reviewing, I loved writing the scrabble scene, it is just like in my crazy family ahah. Hope you liked this chapter x**

**GottaLoveTen- Brirrifying! Congratulations, you have excelled yourself with this review. I was literally dying on the floor, you should seriously be a bloody comedian, my mam told me that she was going to get the straight jacket out for me because I was laughing so much at your British accent analogy! I haven't heard of The Wolf Among Us, I just got Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee from Alice in Wonderland. Thanks again for your awesomely hilarious reviews as usual and I hope you thought this chapter was okay :) x**

**tinuviel- Hellooo :) Writing the kiss reaction was great fun, I could just imagine his face seeing his 'daughter figure' kissing some boy, priceless! I have half written a flashback for Mycroft and Alex when she is about two so I think I may post that next because it will fit in anywhere because it just starts with Mycroft drinking tea (which must be everyday haha) so we will be sure to see some cute fluff there ;) hope you liked this chapter x**

**Kell-bells34- hey! Thank you so much for your lovely words, it really means the world. I am so glad that you look forward to my updates, I usually write them the day before or the morning and then hold off updating until about tea time when most people are free to read :) I hope you thought this chapter was okay :) x**

**Jaz Soph 25.11-Helloo again! Fluff is always the way forward ;) Logex, Lex, Alog, Alexan? Lex seems a little less weird haha. Don't worry, if you get put in a mental asylum, I will be in the next room along haha! I hope you liked this chapter x**

**Xin0Lan- Hey again! I am glad you found it amusing haha, scrabble shall be the downfall of Baker Street! I have a certain scenario in mind for poor Logan and surprisingly, it doesn't involve a warehouse... or does it? I am planning to write the episodes like this (this may change) Study in Pink, Blind Banker, Original Case, The Great Game, Original Case, Scandal in Belgravia, Hounds of Baskerville, original case?, Reichenbach Fall *sobs*, Empty Hearse, The Sign of Three, His Last Vow. But there will be quite a long time between Reichenbach and Empty Hearse... Hope you liked this chapter :) x**

** rycbar15- Heya again! No problem, you made me smile so I am just returning the favour :) Logan is a little fluffball through and through, bless him. Cute chapters are the future, I love writing/reading fluff so much that it is painful... I hope you lied this chapter :D x**

**Guest- Hi! John Watson beat Sherlock Holmes in Scrabble, you heard it here first folks! Haha, thank you for your review and I am so glad that you like what I am doing. I hope you like this chapter :D x**

**Revella- Hey again! Cheers for yet another of your fantastic reviews! Sherlock should so change his name to Jennifer, just for a day haha. Since your helpful review about my grammar, I read through carefully to try and correct mistakes and I took an online class thing so I am glad that worked haha! I hope you enjoyed this chapter :D x**

**TC- Hi! I am glad you like what I write :) I have read many amazing 'Sherlock has a daughter' fanfictions and I wanted to put my own spin on my own so I am very glad that you think that it has a nice twist and is hopefully original *fingers crossed*. I hope you liked this chapter :) x**


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of its characters, I only own Alex :)**

**Author's Note: Hello again everyone! I hope you like the second instalment in the case and things are getting a little weirder...**

**Enjoy:**

_Previously-_

_Alex subconsciously snuggled further down into her pillow. Sherlock smiled at her lovingly and was immensely glad that she seemed to have grown out of the nightmares that used to plague her. _

_"You did well today. Better than I did when I was your age, but then again I didn't have anyone to teach me. Apart from Mycroft but he was off at university by then. You're lucky really, you have two teachers. One is obviously fifty times better than the other but you still have us both. I wish time could stand still right now. You are getting older now and soon you will be the one off to university and I will be left here annoying John," Sherlock laughed quietly, "… I don't want you to grow up Al'. Stay a little girl forever, or even a stroppy teenager, I don't care just… don't leave me."_

_Sherlock let out a deep breath, gave Alex a final kiss and walked back into the living room with John._

_"Never," Alex whispered into the dark and allowed herself to float back to sleep again, knowing that she would be with her Uncle until the day she died. _

Alex awoke to the feeling of the sun streaming through the curtains, its rays lightly caressing her face. She kicked off the covers that had somehow become tangled around her legs in the night and shivered as her warm feet hit the cold boards of her bedroom floor. Really, there was nothing better to wake up to if she was honest; the refreshing feeling of coolness under your feet was unrivalled. Of course, waking up to a TARDIS outside your window could be a close contender.

"Alex, I know you are up! You have a case to solve remember!" Sherlock called up the stairs as he heard the floorboards creak under his niece's weight.

Alex groaned and pulled on the first lot of clothes that her eyes landed on. Checking in the mirror and tying her hair up in a messy bun, she nodded and ignored the fact that she was wearing the jeans with the singe mark from Sherlock's latest experiment. She jogged down the stairs and came to a halt in the living room.

"Attention, sir!" she mocked, "What is the situation then? Am I carrying on with the papers?"

Sherlock turned from where he and John were hunched over John's laptop on the kitchen table.

"Afraid not, Lestrade just messaged us. There has been another murder."

"Where at?" Alex asked immediately.

"In the same place," Sherlock replied with a shake of his head.

Alex frowned, "How? The whole floor has been cornered off and is constantly being patrolled by police!"

"I know," Sherlock grinned, "And the murder slipped past them."

He jumped up excitedly and clapped Alex on the shoulder.

"This is fantastic!"

And with that, he was out of the door. Alex turned to John,

"Aww, he is cute when he is excited isn't he?"

John laughed and pulled on his coat to follow his friend.

* * *

Alex hopped up the stairs leading to the first floor of the hospital and brushed back the police tape that had been placed around the door.

"Hello, Alex," Lestrade greeted as he saw her emerge from the doorway.

"Hey, murderer slipped past you eh?"

"I have no idea how they did it," Lestrade sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.

"Sherlock, John and I will be able to figure it out," she reassured with a smile.

"I am sure you will," Lestrade smiled back and looked around behind Alex, "Where _are _Sherlock and John?"

"Oh, they are having a row with the taxi driver. Something about having drugs underneath the seat," Alex shrugged.

Lestrade immediately snapped his attention to the pavement outside the window to the taxi.

"I will be back in a minute Alex," he told her as he motioned for some of his officers to follow him out to the taxi.

Once they had disappeared through the tape, Alex burst out laughing and took out her phone.

"They totally fell for it. Are you sure that Michael is up to this?"

_"Oh don't worry; he is one of my most trusted in the homeless network. It took all of his willpower not to actually_ take_ some of the drugs planted on him,"_ Sherlock replied.

"I didn't even know he could drive to be honest."

"_He really can't_," Sherlock admitted, "_But he is a top class actor so I figured that he would be best suited to the task at hand. Now go and see the body, that is what this is all for after all_."

Alex shut off the phone and stuffed it back in her pocket as she entered the same room as she had done yesterday. The man who had been previously murdered had been moved to the morgue and now in his place was a young woman lying motionless on the floor, drenched in her own blood. Alex took out her phone once more, clicked on voice notes and began to talk.

"Victim is female, looking around twenty-twenty five. Puncture marks on the abdomen and chest like previous victim. Victim number 2 displays similar characteristics to Victim number 1 with regards to laugh and frown lines, suggesting she also has a stressful job. Actually, it is possible that they have the same job… that could be the connection," Alex trailed off as her eyes drifted towards another liquid that seemed to be mingling with the blood.

She bent down and uncurled the woman's dead hand and frowned. The woman's palm was completely smothered in jet black ink. The liquid seeped through the lines and crinkles in her hand giving it a spider web effect. It was a sharp contrast from the paleness of the paper white skin that it was staining.

"Victim's left hand is covered with ink, just as Victim number 1's left hand held a lock. These have obviously been killed by the same murderer," Alex clicked the 'stop recording' button and snapped a few pictures as she had done the previous day.

What she really wanted to know was how the police didn't see anything. The murderer would have to sneak not only themselves past police but also whilst carrying a dead body. And that body would have been heavily bleeding, so where was the trail of blood? Did the murderer have the audacity to have time to clear up after themselves? Plus the fact that the hospital was crawling with security- Wait.

"Cameras!" Alex whispered with a smile.

All she had to do now was somehow get down to the security office which was on the floor above next to the elderly patients ward. Alex bent down to the woman.

"I am really sorry for this, but it is only to help catch whoever did this to you," Alex apologised as she soaked her hand in the dead woman's blood that had pooled around her.

Alex brought the stained hand to her face to imitate a long gash across the left side of her forehead. She then held her head against the radiator in the corner. She was soon sweating slightly and extremely warm to imitate a severe temperature. Taking a few moments to get herself into character, Alex stepped out of the door and ran to the staircase. There were mirrors in the corner of the staircase walls as it spiralled so patients could see if a nurse or doctor was running in an emergency to avoid a collision. Alex praised the person who thought that up as she ducked back into the cornered-off floor as she spotted a family on their way down. Once they had gone passed, Alex checked the mirror once again and bolted when it was clear.

She was now on the second floor and the security office was right next to her. Checking that her head was still warm and her 'injury' was still convincing, Alex burst through the door into the office. A man sat behind the desk immediately rose to his feet to reprimand her but stopped mid word as he saw the state of her.

"Goodness gracious! What happened to you?!" he exclaimed.

"I… I… d-don't," Alex stuttered and began to tilt sideways.

The man predictably sprinted around his desk to catch her before she fell. He felt her head and gasped dramatically. He carried her over to his chair.

"You wait right here. I am going to get a nurse," he told her patronizingly.

Alex grabbed his hand.

"Thank you," she murmured softly.

The man nodded and ran out of the office. As soon as he was out of sight, Alex sat up bolt right and took out her memory stick that was attached to her house keys, you never know when you might need a memory stick, but you always need your keys. Alex slotted the stick into the computer in front of her. It was half past twelve so all of the nurses would be on their lunch break up in the staff room on the fifth floor. It would take the overweight security man approximately seven minutes to get up there from the third floor that he was on.

"More than enough time," Alex muttered as she opened up her slightly illegal downloading system and began to create a duplicate copy of the hospital security system. She extracted the binary code and implanted it onto the memory stick so she had a live feed of all of the security cameras in the hospital. She retracted her now full memory stick and put it in her pocket.

Three minutes left. Alex tapped at the keyboard and looped the feed of her in the office back five minutes so all anyone saw if they watched it back was the security man eating doughnuts, hardly anything incriminating. Job done. Alex grabbed a tissue from the desk and wiped her face as she scampered out of the office and barrelled down the stairs, thanking her lucky stars that no one was on their way down.

She burst out of the main entrance and approached John and Sherlock who were waiting on the curb outside. Michael and the taxi were gone. John caught sight of Alex first and gasped.

"Oh my God! What happened?" he cried.

Sherlock spun on his heel and his eyes widened. Maybe wiping it off hadn't been that successful after all.

"Calm down, it isn't my blood. I had to use it as a disguise," Alex interrupted before they went into full out overreaction mode.

The two men visibly relaxed.

"Since dear Michael has been carted off to Scotland Yard, we better hail a cab."

* * *

Back in Baker Street, Alex flopped down to the floor once more and immersed herself in the papers. If she could find the first victim, she would be sure to find the second in the female pile of employees at Maudsley Hospital.

"So what did you find then?" John asked as he settled himself in the arm chair.

"Just listen to the video note," Alex told him as she handed him her phone.

Sherlock paused his experiment to listen to his niece's findings. Alex zoned out and fully concentrated on the papers. She had been there; she didn't need to listen to her own recorded ramblings.

There were only about fifty papers left and Alex was starting to get a little nervous. Maybe they didn't work at Maudsley Hospital at all and all of that had been for nothing.

"Oh, and I have the hospital's CCTV on the laptop now," Alex mentioned offhandedly.

Sherlock grinned at her,

"My, my Miss Holmes, you are excelling."

"No, I just used that download software that you designed years ago."

Sherlock looked genuinely surprised.

"That still works? Wow, Bartholomew's must be well out of date."

Alex sighed and put her head in her hands as she looked to the last person and found someone completely different from the victims.

"They don't work at Maudsley Hospital after all of that," she groaned.

"I know," Sherlock said blankly.

Alex turned to him slowly,

"What?"

"I know. I knew from the minute you picked up the phone to them that they weren't involved," Sherlock shrugged.

"You mean to tell me…" Alex began quietly with a menacing tone laced in her voice, "That you watched as I slaved away trudging through all of this stuff when you _knew!?" _

Sherlock didn't seem to see the problem.

"Yes," he replied obliviously.

"Why didn't you tell me?!" Alex exclaimed, flailing her arms for emphasis.

"Because you are meant to be figuring this out on your own. If I had told you that they weren't from the hospital, it wouldn't have been a fair test," Sherlock answered simply

"I am not your experiment!"

"All right children," John interrupted, earning himself two death glares, "Just remember that there are two people dead and their murderer is still out there. Arguing isn't going to bring us any closer to bringing justice, is it?"

"No," Alex mumbled.

John turned to Sherlock.

"No," he mumbled as well, like a child being scolded by his parents for stealing cookies from the special jar.

"Exactly, so Alex, you are going to have to find another lead to follow," John said wisely.

Alex nodded and picked up her phone to call Maudlsey Hospital.

_"Hello welcome to Maudsley General Hospital, this is Sandra Claire speaking. How can I help?_" the receptionist rattled off.

"Hello, this is Detective Inspector Jenkins, we spoke yesterday," Alex began.

_"Oh yes! Is everything okay?_"

"I was wondering if I could speak to your manager again, please."

_"Unfortunately he is in a meeting for another ten minutes but I could put you onto the deputy?_" the woman asked helpfully.

"That would be lovely, thank you Miss Claire."

Alex heard ruffling until she was passed on to the deputy.

"_Hello, this is Mr Mauston_," he greeted formally.

"Hello Mr Mauston, my name is Detective Inspector Jenkins from Scotland Yard. I talked to your boss yesterday about a murder enquiry."

"_Oh yes, he told me about it. Have you found anything?_"

"I am afraid I can only disclose information to the highest authority," Alex admitted regretfully.

"_Of course, of course_."

There was a moment of silence and Alex began to panic slightly. What did police officers talk about while they were waiting? What would seem less suspicious?

"So… have you been in the job long?" she asked.

Oh yeah, she resorted to small talk.

"_Ooh, a good few years now. My father used to work here so I feel rather like I have carried on the family business. My wife works in the profession too, down in the mental health unit_ _at St Bart's_…"

Mr Mauston droned on and Alex zoned out, hm-ing and nodding and I know-ing and oh really-ing in all of the right places until the phone was passed on to the manager.

"_Hello Detective Inspector Jenkins. What news do you bear?_" he asked pleasantly but Alex could detect the nervousness in his voice.

"We ran a background check on all of your employees and I am sure that you will be happy to know that we have no evidence whatsoever regarding your staff or your hospital."

"_Oh, thank the Lord_," the man sighed, his voice heavy with relief, _"I cannot tell you how long it kept me up last night."_

"You and me both, sir. You and me both," Alex chuckled.

_"I hope my second in command didn't bore you too much in my absence?"_

"No, no," Alex laughed, "He was very entertaining. Anyway, thank you for your time, sir."

_"No problem. I do hope you catch the scum."_

"Oh don't worry, we will," Alex reassured him with a steely glint in her eye as she closed the lid of her phone.

She then made her way over to the laptop and uploaded the live CCTV footage from her laptop onto the screen. It immediately buzzed into life and Alex watched as the people all around the hospital milled around. Some were crying at a loss, some sighing with relief. But Alex wasn't interested. She clicked on the security from the night before last and watched.

"Do we know what time the first one was killed?" Alex asked.

"Both were killed at three o'clock in the morning. That is what Lestrade said," John informed her.

"John, shush. She is meant to figuring it out on her own," Sherlock hissed.

"What? It isn't like she could have asked Lestrade or he would know that you are letting a fourteen year old take a case!" John defended.

"Almost fifteen," Alex reminded them under her breath and typed in the time frame, "Are you coming to watch?"

Sherlock and John came and leant over the back of the computer chair that Alex was sat in as she clicked 'play'.

A short, stubby looking woman in a nurse's uniform shuffled down the corridor, constantly checking her watch to see if her night shift was over. In her moment of distraction, she caught her leg on the corner of a cleaning trolley and swore loudly as she hopped on one foot. She rubbed her saw leg and carried on limping down the corridor. She was about half way down when suddenly, she disappeared. The screen filled with static and the woman was at the end of the corridor.

Alex checked the time at the top. It had skipped five minutes from frame 02:55:00 to 03:00:00.

"We need to get back over to St Bart's don't we?" Alex asked Sherlock.

He looked down at her and nodded. Alex jumped up and ran down the stairs to hail a cab. Sherlock continued to stare at the screen distractedly.

"Sherlock… are you okay?" John asked in concern.

"What? Yes, yes. I am fine, now come on before Alex gets in a cab and goes on her own."

John grinned, that seemed like something Alex would do. That was one thing he noticed that was similar between Sherlock and Alex, they were both severely impatient. As if on cue, Sherlock jumped from his seat and dashed down the stairs. He couldn't help the feeling that he may have chosen the wrong case for Alex to solve on her own. He had thought that it would have just been an open and shut murder but it was proving to be slightly more complex.

* * *

Sherlock, John and Alex were stood on the cornered off floor next to Anderson.

"How are your hands?" Alex asked innocently.

Anderson quickly hid the still pink tinged hands in his pockets and gave Alex a venomous glare.

"How do you get it off? I have been looking like an idiot for weeks!"

"No change from normal then. And I once again have no idea what you are talking about because of course I am just an insolent child who doesn't know anything, so how could I know that potassium chloride is your only hope of getting it off."

Anderson looked at her.

"Thank you," he muttered and stalked off towards Donovan who was on the stairs.

This gave Alex the opportunity to dash towards the CCTV camera on the ceiling of the corridor.

"Sherlock, can I stand on your shoulders?" she asked as she was a good two feet too small to reach it.

Sherlock crouched down to allow Alex to jump on his back and climb up onto his shoulders. She swayed precariously and had to dig in her feet to stop herself from falling.

"Ow," Sherlock whined.

"Oh shut up, that didn't hurt."

She reached up and twisted the camera clockwise. It fell into her hand immediately, only strands of wire connecting it to the ceiling. Alex brought it close to her face and inspected the wiring. Nothing seemed to have been cut or disconnected. Every wire that should be there was there and in perfect condition. She looked up to the ceiling around the fitting and saw no fingerprints scuff marks.

"It doesn't seem to have been tampered with," she told them.

"Remember the Strand case," Sherlock muttered.

Alex pressed her nose against the ceiling around camera.

"No smell of paint. Even if they used the non-scented paint, it takes longer to dry so it would still be wet," she rubbed her fingers against the white, "It is bone dry so they have not just painted over the marks."

Sherlock bent down and Alex slid off his shoulders.

"So what does that mean?" John asked.

"It means that our murderer is very, _very_ clever and has somehow gotten into the records and wiped them without coming into contact with the camera," Sherlock replied, the feeling that it was beginning to get too dangerous coming back again.

"But… Alex did that. She just did it earlier today," John said.

"Yes, with an encryption/download system that took _me _four months and half of Mycroft's software to create," Sherlock countered.

"Oh."

If it took Sherlock that much effort and time, that meant that there was someone out there who could actually rival him. And they had just killed two people.

* * *

By the time the trio got back to Baker Street, it was ten o'clock and everyone (apart from Sherlock obviously) was feeling tired.

"I am off to bed," John announced as soon as they arrived in the living room, "'Night Alex, 'Night Sherlock."

"Goodnight John," Alex replied and stifled a yawn herself, "Actually, I think I am going to have an early night as well."

Just as she was about to mount the stairs to her bedroom, she turned to Sherlock.

"How did you know by the way?" she asked.

"Hm?"

"About the hospital. How did you know?"

Sherlock picked up his violin bow and ran his fingers down it lovingly.

"The post it note with the letters on it. They were printed on and obviously belonged to a company as you pointed out. Maudsley hospital is not a company, it is run by the National Healthcare System so if anything was to be printed on post it notes there, it would be the NHS, not the hospital name," Sherlock explained in one go.

Alex sighed,

"Of course…" she laughed mirthlessly, "I am such an idiot."

Sherlock looked up from his bow.

"You're really not."

Alex matched his gaze and smiled slightly,

"Goodnight Sherlock."

Instead of answering, Sherlock picked up his bow and began to play a beautiful melody that reminded Alex of the springtime. The tune stuck with her as she climbed up to her bedroom and collapsed on her bed. Little did she know, she would be humming it under her breath for the next few days (whilst trying not to strangle Sherlock for getting it stuck in her head).

**Author's Note: So that was the second murder. Any ideas? So far we have had a lock in the first victim's hand and ink in the second victim's hand... hmmm... how strange...**

**Thank you to:**

**Rose Tomlinson **

**Insane-Mad-Hatter07**

**Twilight Dark Angel**

**for following/favouriting :)**

**AMAZING TREBLE EXTRA MASSIVE THANK YOU TO:**

**Revella- Hello again! Yeah, Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are evil, evil geniuses that love to mess with people's emotions *bursts into tears* I have definitely noticed a difference in my grammar, like for instance I don't need to constantly correct myself from lent and leant now which is a bonus haha. Thanks once again for lovely review and I hope you liked this chapter x**

**rycbar15- Hey again! I am glad you like the case :) Hope you like this next instalment x**

**tinuviel21- Hello again! Fluff is always the best ;) I have a possible scenario that could be uploaded to do with Alex's dad but only time will tell *fades dramatically into the distance* Hope you liked this chapter x**

**Xin0Lan- Hi again! I had to write something sweet after watching the sign of three, it just makes me so sad to see him leave on his own D': Alex is definitely sneaky haha. Through flashbacks I will build a picture of what happened in Alex's past since there will be a lot more of them, Mycroft's flashback being next. Hope you liked this chapter x**

**Rose Tomlinson- Yeah, I think fluff was invented to help fans cope with the feels that the show forces upon us haha. There should be a fangirl hotline. I update every night or every other night so you won't have to wait long :) Hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**Please review, I would love to hear any theories that you may have even though it is early days in the case.**

**-Abby**

**X**


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer- Don't own it.**

**Author's Note- Just a little bonus chapter because I am feeling down and writing is my outlet.**

**I hope you like it-**

_Previously:_

_Sherlock looked up from his bow._

_"You're really not."_

_Alex matched his gaze and smiled slightly,_

_"Goodnight Sherlock."_

_Instead of answering, Sherlock picked up his bow and began to play a beautiful melody that reminded Alex of the springtime. The tune stuck with her as she climbed up to her bedroom and collapsed on her bed. Little did she know, she would be humming it under her breath for the next few days (whilst trying not to strangle Sherlock for getting it stuck in her head)._

"Alex! Alex, wake up," someone shook her shoulder roughly.

Alex groaned and rolled over on her side, batting at the infuriating hand that had latched onto her arm.

"Get up, I think your Uncle will burst a blood vessel if he has to wait any longer," the voice that Alex recognised as John warned.

"Fine… fine," Alex grumbled as she pulled herself up and rubbed her eyes, "What has happened?"

"Another murder," John informed her sullenly.

Alex's eyes snapped wide open.

"Where at? When? How?" she rattled off.

"You will have to ask your Uncle Sherlock," John replied and backed out of the room.

Alex looked at her clock and sighed.

03:05

She threw the covers back and pulled on some random clothes that were lurking at the very front of her wardrobe. Not even bothering to look at her hair, Alex sprang down the stairs and into the living room.

"Sherlock, what is going on?" she asked.

Sherlock turned to her from the window.

"We need to get over to St Bart's immediately," he announced.

Alex caught his arm as he was half out of the door.

"John said there has been another murder."

Sherlock nodded and continued down the stairs. Alex frowned, her Uncle's eyes didn't hold the usual glimmer of excitement that they usually gained during a case, all she could see was worry clouding itself in the corner of his eye. She followed him nonetheless into a cab and squeezed in between him and John.

"What has happened then?" she asked as the engine roared into life.

"Another person has been killed, in the same place at the same time," Sherlock stated.

"How?" Alex breathed under her breath.

John and Sherlock exchanged glances over the top of her head (which she didn't miss). The taxi came to a halt outside the hospital and Alex was surprised to see that John and Sherlock were coming in with her and not staying to create some kind of diversion like the previous times.

The trio walked onto the corridor and Alex noted that there were significantly more officers than before. Lestrade came out from the hospital room and made his way over to them.

"Thank you for coming. We have no idea how they keep doing it," he confessed and held an arm out to signal them into the room, "See what you can find."

Sherlock entered first with Alex and John close behind him. The body was an old man looking around eighty. His skin was stretched and wrinkled with age. Liver spots were dotted up his arms and exposed chest. Just like the other two, he was stabbed in his chest and abdomen. Alex swallowed. What had an old man done to deserve a death like that? Sherlock knelt next to the body and motioned for Alex to do the same.

"Go on then. But quietly," he told her.

Alex cleared her throat slightly and took out her mobile. Switching it to voice notes, she began to speak once more,

"Victim is male, looks to be in his mid to late seventies. Puncture marks to neck and abdomen just like previous victims. Shirt is missing. Wedding ring around his finger so wife or husband at home. Wife seems statistically more likely given the era and the fact that the wedding ring is very old. Gay marriage would not have been heard of the fifty, sixty years that this ring was placed around his finger. Job seems almost impossible to deduce from his looks since wrinkles are ordinarily present, both laugh and frown lines but we are to assume that he occupied the same job as the others if the job is the connection. His fingernails are neat and unchipped so that suggests a job that does not involve manual labour. He hasn't retired because the alarm on his watch is set to six o'clock in the morning. A retired man would not wake up at that time if he had no job to go to. The button is stiff so he has been in the job for a long time, clearly very experienced and probably well revered within the mystery occupation…" Alex trailed off, "Do we have his shirt?"

Lestrade came over,

"Um yeah, the officer who found him removed it and pressed it to the wound to try and stop the bleeding. He was _just _say hanging on when he was found put passed in the next five minutes before we could administer any proper medical care," Lestrade informed them and handed over the bloodied shirt.

Sherlock took it and waved for Lestrade to go away. The older man raised his hands in surrender and backed out of the room. As soon as he was gone, the clothing was passed to Alex. She took it carefully and tried to ignore the man's blood that was slowly seeping onto her hands. She turned it over and tried to find any indicator that could help the case. The shirt was nothing special but was clearly well worn due to the discolouring around the collar where he had pulled it on many times. Alex looked at the ticket on the inside and smiled sadly.

_For Eric Grayson,_

_Love Always my Sweetheart,_

_Dorothy Grayson._

_XXX_

Alex held out the ticket to Sherlock, not trusting herself to speak for the moment.

"His wife died," Sherlock told John, "You can see the smudge marks around the message where he has cried over it."

Sherlock's voice was as cool and detached as always, unfazed by the fact that he had just stated the most traumatic and heart breaking experience that the body in front of him had encountered. Alex took out her mobile and typed in the name Eric Grayson in the local _Yellow Pages_ app that she had. The address immediately popped up.

"45 Northumberland Street," Alex told them, "Two miles from here."

* * *

The trio now stood in the hall of Eric Grayson's home. The house itself was grand and lush, fuelling the belief that the mystery job was very well paid. Sunlight streamed through the open blinds and the whole house had an edge of serenity about it.

"John, take the kitchen and dining room. Alex, take upstairs," Sherlock ordered as he headed towards the living room.

_I thought this was supposed to be my case,_ Alex thought as she ascended the beautiful crafted staircase. She walked out onto the glossy wooden floor of the landing and pushed the bedroom door open gently. A four poster double bed lay in the middle with a lilac throw draped over it. The colours suggested that the Eric couldn't bear to buy new sheets after Dorothy died. Alex walked along the room and ran her hand along a delicate vanity unit that stood in the corner. Around the mirror were five different pictures of who Alex presumed were Eric and Dorothy when they were younger.

Alex took the first one and unpinned it. She held it in her hand, the chapters of their life. The photo was yellow and hazy with age and showed a smiling young couple looking in their early twenties. Eric had his arm snaked around Dorothy's waist lovingly and her head was resting on his shoulder. Alex smiled softly and took the next photo. The couple were slightly older now and were stood outside a church. Dorothy was wearing a beautiful flowing wedding dress and was leaning on her husband's chest as they smiled dotingly up at each other. The bridesmaids were stood around them with grins on their faces. The third photo showed Eric struggling to build a cradle and a heavily pregnant Dorothy laughing at her husband, one hand protectively on her stomach. Alex felt tears stinging in her eyes as she picked up the next chapter. It showed Eric swinging his three year old daughter around in the air, much to the amusement of a once again pregnant Dorothy. The fifth photo showed the two children running in the garden, the sun beating down on them. Dorothy was laid on the sun lounger with Eric handing her a lemonade. The last photo showed a now elderly Eric and Dorothy standing in the same spot that they had done in the first photo. Apart from now, the building was just flat land, the college having been destroyed in World War Two.

Alex blew out a breath and delicately pinned the photos back onto the mirror, her heart swelling as she read Eric Grayson's life like a book on a dusty library shelf. Alex let her fingers rest on a jewellery box on the table top and lift up the lid. Inside was a small letter wrapped up with a butterfly pin. Swallowing the feeling of intruding, Alex slipped the pin off and unrolled the letter.

_To my dearest Eric,_

_If you are reading this now, I am finally at peace. Please do not feel sorry for me, this is the only option I have to stop the pain. _

_We have been lovers since college; oh those were the days, my love. I so clearly recall the late night strolls around the lake, the moon shimmering off the crystal waters. You were my knight in shining armour through the exams. Then of course I got pregnant, the best thing (save meeting you) that could have ever happened. Jennifer was such a chubby baby, just like Lottie! I wish they had got to live to see their teenage years, I am sure you would have been very busy scaring off their suitors! We managed for so long without them, our little angels. We had just managed to build ourselves back together when I got the cancer. _

_I remember our wedding day so clearly, you were so handsome. My mother cried, do you remember? Yours just sat there as cool as you like but we both know there was a tear in her eye. She is up here with me too, and your father. I am with our little Jennifer and Lottie now my sweet. We are in a place where we can forget about the drunken driver. The whole family is together and we are just waiting for you. Do not worry, my love. We will wait for you until the end of time itself._

_You were my ray of hope through the dark days, you are the only reason why I held on for so long, but now I need to let go._

_Know that I love you always Eric, my love until the end. I know that you will hold my hand as I float away to the end of the tunnel and into the light._

_I love you so very, very much,_

_Dorothy Grayson_

_XXX _

Alex felt tears slip down her cheeks as she read the note and she wished she could be more like Sherlock, a machine. She didn't want to feel the pain that the man had gone through and the pain that she was going through just reading about it. Alex gently rolled up the letter and slotted the pin on it.

"Don't worry Eric and Dorothy Grayson. I will find who did this," Alex whispered into the empty room.

The empty room where the veil between past and present ran thin as glimpses of the Grayson's life fluttered by.

**Please Review and I am sorry that it is so sad, my mood is kind of writing it for me. I will probably be in a better mood tomorrow.**

**-Abby**

**x**


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: Still don't own it :(**

**Author's Note: Hellloo! Pretty long chapter here for you guys so I hope you enjoy it :)**

Previously:

_Alex felt tears slip down her cheeks as she read the note and she wished she could be more like Sherlock, a machine. She didn't want to feel the pain that the man had gone through and the pain that she was going through just reading about it. Alex gently rolled up the letter and slotted the pin on it._

_"Don't worry Eric and Dorothy Grayson. I will find who did this," Alex whispered into the empty room. _

_The empty room where the veil between past and present ran thin as glimpses of the Grayson's life fluttered by._

Alex came plodding back down the stairs and assembled in the kitchen with John.

"Hey," she greeted softly.

John looked up from where he was scanning through Eric Grayson's post.

"Hello," he replied, taking notice of Alex's puffy eyes but deeming it wise not to comment.

"Found anything then?"

John shook his head.

"Nothing apart from an interesting argument about the rising council tax," he muttered sarcastically.

Alex smiled half-heartedly and was about to go and find her Uncle when something caught her eye on top of the fridge.

"What's that?" she murmured to herself as she reached up and grasped a book. It fell into her hands and fluttered open to show the weeks of the year.

"John," she called, "It is Eric's diary."

John dropped the letter in his hand and looked over her shoulder.

"It just says work," he pointed out.

Alex turned the page and written in the column: MONDAY were the words A. DEVON.

"A. Devon?" John frowned, "Well, that could mean anything…"

Alex nodded dismally in agreement, accepting that her find was nothing useful. She shut the cover and was about to put it back when she noticed something in the bottom right above the bar code:a picture of a magnifying glass in gold print below one word in fancy looped writing. MAURIS.

"John! Sherlock!" she shouted.

John clapped his hands to his ears,

"I am stood right next to you!"

Alex gave him a look as if to say 'not right now, John'. Sherlock stuck his head around the entranceway from the hall.

"What have you found?"

"Mauris, MAU. That is what was written on the post it note," Alex unrolled the note from her pocket and held it over so that the RIS completed the word, "It is the same font and everything. It is where they work, this is obviously a freebie given out to everyone due to the inscription on the bottom."

Sherlock grinned and flipped the diary into his hands.

"Back to Baker Street!"

* * *

Once they arrived back, Alex dived for her laptop and typed in MAURIS into the search engine. She brought up the website.

"Guys, look at this. Mauris is a company devoted to cryptology. They scour around the country looking for old relics and codes to decipher; that is what A. Devon meant. He was going to go to Devon to look at an artefact," Alex explained.

"So Eric Grayson, he was a cryptologist?" John looked at her for confirmation.

"Yes, that would explain the large house and the well paid job. There is millions in code breaking and not many can do it."

"What about the other two bodies, were they cryptologists as well?"

Alex double clicked on 'meet our staff' and scrolled down through the pictures and names of the employees.

"There," Sherlock pointed to one of the photos, "Mr Samuel Aldrich. He was the first."

Alex scrolled down a little further,

"There is the second! Mrs Bailey Dodson. We need to phone Lestrade," John declared and reached for his mobile.

"Wait," Alex's hand shot out and stopped John's.

"What?"

"Isn't a bit strange that no one has reported anyone missing? I mean, the second victim was married, why didn't her husband call the police when she didn't come home? She has been dead for two days now and probably missing for three, don't you think he would have said something?"

Sherlock nodded, he had been thinking the same thing.

"What, so… we ring them and ask why they didn't notify us about their now deceased wife's disappearance," John asked incredulously, looking between the two, "Well I am not having that conversation."

Sherlock turned to Alex.

"Whoa no," she declined hastily.

"It is your case," Sherlock reasoned.

_Oh, now it is my case._

"Uh… fine," she relented and picked up John's mobile.

"Hey!" he cried out indignantly, "Get your own phone."

"Yours is closer," Alex muttered distractedly as she dialled the number for the Dobson household.

"_Hello?"_

"Hello, this is Detective Inspector Jenkins from Scotland Yard. Am I right in thinking that I am speaking to a Mr Dobson?" Alex asked, taking the character of good ol' Jenkins once more.

"_Yes. Is there a problem, Detective Inspector?" _Alex heard genuine worry in his voice.

"Could I speak to your wife please, Mr Dobson?"

"_Oh, I am afraid Bailey isn't here."_

"Do you know where she has gone?"

_"She went off about ooh, four days ago. Somewhere for her health, she said."_

"Do you have any idea where that might be, sir?" Alex pressed.

_"I honestly have no idea. Maybe some spa break or something; she has been under a lot of stress lately."_

"And, what is the cause of her stress?" Alex questioned, writing down the man's answers on a notepad.

_"What does this have to do with you? Has something happened to my wife?"_ the man snapped defensively.

"Mr Dobbs, I suggest that you calm down and answer my question," Alex put a certain amount of warning in her voice.

She heard the man sigh.

_"We just lost our son. Miscarriage. Bailey blames herself."_

Alex bit her lip, feeling guilty for pushing.

"I am very sorry for your loss Mr Dobbs." _And the one you don't yet know about._

_"Is that all?" _

Alex coughed uncomfortably.

"I suggest that you may want to sit down Mr Dobbs. Have you got someone with you?"

_"My mother. I am sat down, now tell me what you need to tell me," _Mr Dobbs ordered impatiently.

Alex looked at Sherlock pleadingly. He squeezed her shoulder and nodded toward the phone.

"I am very, _very _sorry to have to tell you that a body fitting the description of your wife has been found at St Bartholomew's Hospital," Alex informed him solemnly, "We believe it to be murder. We cannot disclose any details yet but feel free to drop by Scotland Yard any time you like."

_"No… n-no. She can't be. Sh-she can't be! I can't lose her too! Please tell me this is some sick joke!" _Mr Dobbs screamed hysterically, his voice thick with sobs.

"Mr Dobbs, I am so-"

_"We shall drop through to the station in the morning,"_ an elderly voice said (presumably Mr Dobbs' mother) and the line went dead.

Alex put the phone down onto the table.

"That," she began shakily, "was the hardest phone call I have ever made."

Sherlock held out one arm and she burrowed into his side. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders instinctively.

"You did well," he assured her.

"I am going to make some tea," she announced and broke out of Sherlock's embrace, "Does anybody want one?"

John nodded.

Alex disappeared into the kitchen and slid the door across.

"You're right," Sherlock admitted to John, "She isn't ready for this."

"To be fair, you didn't think the case was going to be this complex," John replied.

Sherlock sighed and put his head in his hands.

"How about this mystery message sender then? Have you got any more?" John asked.

Sherlock took his mobile out of his pocket and showed the screen to John.

_File: Message_

_Sender: Unknown_

_Time: 03:01_

_Hello again, my brilliant little Holmes._

"And you are sure that it is talking about Alex?"

Sherlock nodded, "Positive."

Alex shuffled back into the room with two mugs in her hand and Sherlock quickly hid the text.

"There you go, John," she handed him his mug and sat down on the sofa.

"That's lovely thanks Alex."

She smiled at him (seemingly back to normal) and sipped at her tea.

"So what do we do now then?" she asked.

John and Sherlock glanced fleetingly at each other like they had done in the taxi/

"Alex, I think it may be better if I take over now. It is getting too dangerous," Sherlock told her carefully.

"But you said that I have been doing well!" she cried, where had this come from?

"You _are_ doing well but it is just becoming more and more complex."

"We have been on cases just as complex and dangerous than this one! The last one for example!"

"Yes, and you ended up in a hospital bed for two weeks," Sherlock snapped.

Alex visibly recoiled at his tone. His face softened.

"Sorry. But I won't let you get hurt like you did last time. You can come with us still, but you obey every single instruction and stay behind me at all times," Sherlock told her sternly.

Alex nodded; she knew she had been defeated. She picked up her mobile from underneath the sofa (as usual) and jumped as it vibrated as soon as her fingertips brushed against it.

**Hello! I am missing you L Do you want to go into town for a bit? I know it is dark but we will stay on the high street – LB**

Alex grinned.

"Hey, Uncle Sherlock?"

"Hm?"

"Could I go into town with Logan please?" she asked sweetly.

Sherlock looked up at her with an obvious scowl on his face.

"No."

"But-"

"No."

"Please-"

"No."

"John, talk some sense into him," Alex pleaded.

"Go on, let her go Sherlock. She needs a break from murders," John tried.

Alex crossed her fingers.

Sherlock contemplated the idea for a while until his mask cracked,

"Fine. But you stay to the main street and don't go off alone," he warned.

"No problem, Mycroft's people will see to that," Alex laughed and give her Uncle a light peck on the cheek as she ran down the stairs and out of the door.

**Hey, I am allowed. Where are you? – AH**

**Look behind you – LB**

Alex spun around to see Logan smirking behind her. She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"God, I have missed you," he murmured.

"Hasn't it only been a couple of days?" she chuckled.

"Yeah, well. So where do you want to go?"

"Do you want to go to Angelo's?" she suggested.

"Sounds good."

Logan kept his arm around Alex's shoulders as they crossed the road and walked to Angelo's. As soon as Alex opened the door, Angelo himself turned and widened his eyes in shock.

"Alex! My how you have grown!" he greeted and kissed her on the cheek.

"Hey Angelo. How are you keeping?" she asked politely, ever to remember her manners.

"Oh, good, good. And who is this strapping young fellow here?" Angelo asked, eyeing Logan up.

"Give him a break Ang' he has enough trouble with my Uncles," Alex warned with a humorous gleam in her eye.

Angelo grinned.

"I have a special table next to the window, your Uncle Sherlock and his date had this table last month, now it will play love nest to the next generation."

Alex blushed heavily at the term 'love nest' but was more interested in what Angelo had just said.

"Sherlock had a date?!" she beamed in disbelief.

He had a date! He was actually going out with someone!

"Oh yes," Angelo said importantly, "John Watson was his name."

Alex burst out laughing.

"N-no Angelo, they aren't together. Just flatmates," she assured him.

"Oh… they were so cute together," he uttered sadly.

Alex saw his crestfallen face and leant up to whisper in his ear.

"Would you mind getting a candle for Logan and I, it is our first date."

Angelo immediately perked up.

"Yes! Of course, now you two go and sit over there and I will set the mood a little," he wiggled his eyebrows and hurried off behind the STAFF ONLY door.

Logan pulled the chair out for Alex gentlemanly and sat opposite her.

"He is a nutter," he commented.

"Yeah," she agreed, "But he is an adorable nutter."

"Feeling almost jealous over here."

Alex giggled and slipped her hand into his as Angelo returned with a flickering candle.

"I shall prepare the dish of the day for you both free of charge," he announced and clapped his hands importantly to his staff, "I want two dishes of the day prepared as fast as possible and delivered to this table. Top quality!"

Angelo winked at the couple and pranced back into the kitchen to hurry along his staff.

"Wow, he really loves you," Logan remarked.

"Oh, Sherlock and I got him off a murder charge when I was eight," Alex shrugged off-handedly.

"Of course you did," Logan muttered fondly.

"Don't you remember? I drew a scale replica of the cell that he was in during form."

Logan's eyes clouded with thought for a moment.

"Oh! The one who was house breaking!"

"Got there in the end," Alex teased.

"Oi," he warned playfully.

A comfortable silence fell over the young loves and Logan stroked his thumb over Alex's skin causing her to shiver.

"Are you cold? Do you want my jumper?" Logan immediately asked.

"No, no it's fine. I think this is our meal coming over anyway."

Sure enough, two waiters bearing two dishes raised high above their heads weaved through the customer and delicately placed the silver platters down on the table in front of Logan and Alex.

"Oh God," Alex chuckled as she saw the silver.

Another waiter followed suit with a vase full of deep red roses.

"Angelo honestly," she muttered as someone replaced their serviettes with swan shaped works of art.

"Well, getting someone off a murder charge has its perks," Logan commented.

The fuss seemed to calm down as Angelo made his way back over to the table.

"Alright, alright! Back to work, chop chop!" he ordered to his staff with another clap of his hands. He turned back to Logan and Alex, "I hope you find it satisfactory."

And with a final wink, he was off once again.

Alex shook her head in amusement and curled some tagliatelle around her fork.

"So what case are you on now?" Logan asked casually as he swallowed a mouthful of food.

"Oh, well. Triple murder so far and we have no idea who is behind it. It was meant to be my case, sort of an initiation into the business but it is getting to dangerous apparently," she shrugged.

"Go on then, what are the clues."

Alex took a deep breath, "We figured out that the connection between the three is the job, so by the time I get back, all of the people who work for Mauris Cryptology will be under police protection. The first two bodies had something in their hands, the first, a lock, and the second, ink. But the third body didn't have anything. And all of them were killed at the same time every day for the past three days: at three o'clock in the morning and in the same place," she finished and took another bite of her meal.

Logan was silent for a few seconds as he processed the information given to him.

"How did the murderer get passed police then? Surely the scene would have been cornered off after the first murder?"

"Exactly. Whoever these people are, they are bloody good."

Logan nodded.

"It is a good job that it is half term, your attendance must be about fifty percent," he laughed, obviously trying to steer the conversation onto lighter topics.

"I don't even think about it, Mycroft has it sorted," she passed off nonchalantly.

"I am still waiting for the moment when that horrid black car is going to kidnap me," Logan shuddered.

"I will have a word with him," Alex assured, "Hey, why don't we go out for a meal?"

Logan looked at her strangely and gestured around him.

"In case you haven't noticed, we _are _having a meal."

"No stupid," she tutted good-naturedly, "With my Uncles. They can see how kind you are to me and that they don't need to worry."

Logan looked physically ill.

"Lo'?"

"You want me to sit opposite the two most frightening people that I have ever met and declare my undying love for the girl they see as their only daughter," he verified.

"Yeah," Alex grinned proudly.

"You must really want me dead," he muttered.

Alex laughed,

"Shut up. I will be sat next to you the whole time and they won't dare do anything to you once I have had a word with them, promise."

Logan seemed to be having an internal battle with himself but eventually lost at the sight of Alex's puppy dog face.

"Alright," he huffed.

"Thanks," she leant over and kissed his lips lightly.

A sudden flash lit up the booth. Alex blinked rapidly and saw a grinning Angelo behind a camera.

"One for the notice board," he chuckled and scurried away again.

"For someone his size, I never see him coming," Alex wondered out loud.

"Come on, I think we better be getting back," Logan announced and held his hand out to help Alex up.

They waved goodbye to Angelo and Logan wrapped his jumper around Alex's bare shoulders as the wind hit them outside.

"Do you want to go to the shop before we head home?" he asked, his voice slightly raised to be heard over the wailing wind.

Alex nodded and shuffled closer to him as they braved the weather down the path.

"I should have really picked up a coat," Alex sighed.

"Yes, you silly girl," Logan chuckled.

"Well you would know all about that-"

Something barrelled headlong into Alex, sending her sprawling on the ground. As Logan reached down to help her up, the man who had knocked into her got there first.

"I am so sorry, I should have been looking where I was going," the man apologised profusely as he firmly took hold of her hand and hauled her up.

"No it is fine," she reassured him, brushing herself down.

"Watch where you are going _mate_," Logan snarled, his face close to the stranger's.

What startled Alex the most was the way the man seemed to change as he was confronted, he turned less apologetic and more violent in a mere flash.

"You might want to keep a tighter rein on your lady friend," he spat.

Alex grabbed Logan's arm forcefully as his arm raised to strike.

"Stop," she whispered.

"Yeah, _stop," _the man snarled and turned to Alex, "Very sorry Miss," he shook her hand firmly and walked away.

"Do you know him?" Alex asked, fiddling with her sleeve.

"No," Logan snapped shortly and saw that Alex was messing with her cuff, "What are you doing?"

"That idiot put something up my sleeve, probably a mouldy tissue or…" she trailed off as a black origami lotus fell from her shirt and into her palm with the words _Alessandra Holmes _on.

Her face raised to the retreating form of the stranger.

"Get him."

Alex set off at a sprint and skidded as she rounded a corner, Logan close behind her. The man realised her was being pursued and but a spurt on.

"He is getting away," Alex growled.

They were now on the main street and had to weave and duck in between the mass of tourists and workers.

"Logan, take the left shortcut, I will carry on this way," she ordered without breaking gaze from her 'prey'.

Logan looked hesitant but turned at the last minute after a forceful nudge from his girlfriend. Alex's phone began to buzz in her pocket.

_"Alessandra Holmes, what the hell are you doing?" _the angry voice of her Uncle Mycroft came through the receiver.

"He had the lotus, the same one they had when they tried to kill me," she panted, her stamina was running out fast and the man seemed to show no signs of fatigue.

_"Alex, stop right there, I have men after him," _Mycroft ordered.

"He is getting away!" she protested.

_"Alessandra, do as you are told!"_

"NO!"

_"STOP!"_

Alex slammed down the lid of her phone and threw the damn thing into the traffic as Sherlock tried to ring her. Knowing that she would have time to regret her actions later, she didn't dwell on it and just pushed her limbs forward with even more vigour than before.

"OI!" she hollered at the man.

He turned and comprehended how close she was. His eyes rested on the building on his right and he slipped in. Alex followed at a great speed and had to clamp her hands over her head as the heavy metal music of _Tainted Love _by _Marilyn Manson _reverberated around the walls of the music hall that she had entered and thundered inside her head. _University Party, great._

Alex scanned the crowd for the man, trying to ignore the pounding bass.

_Sometimes I feel I have got to_

_Run away I have got to _

_Get away_

_From the pain that you drive into the heart of me_

_The love we share_

_Seems to go nowhere_

_I've lost my lights_

_I toss and turn I can't sleep at night_

Alex's eyes suddenly darted to the man changing into a hoodie to try and disguise himself. She barged passed some seriously drunken idiots and hopped down into the lower stand. She ran along the chairs but skidded on the last one, alerting the man of her presence. He immediately took flight up the concrete stairs behind him. Diving forward, Alex managed to grab hold of his shoe on his way up. He shook his leg violently and sent the girl flying back into a spaced out student.

"Hey," he droned, his eyes wide and unfocused.

Alex wrinkled her nose in disgust and took off after her target.

_Once I ran to you (I ran)_

_Now I'll run from you_

_This tainted love you've given_

_I give you all a boy could give you_

_Take my tears and that's not nearly all_

_Tainted love_

_Tainted love_

The screaming music blared at a deafening volume once again and Alex fell to her knees. He had led her directly to the speakers and she could feel her eardrums pounding. Her world was spinning as she drunkenly threw herself forward in attempt to get away from the metal monsters.

_Now I know I've got to_

_Run away I've got to_

_Get away_

_You don't really want any more from me_

_To make things right_

_You need someone to hold you tight_

_You think love is to pray_

_I'm sorry I don't pray that way_

She stumbled over to the top of the hall and gasped at the relief of the large proximity between her and the cacophonous noise. She had to find the man. He knew… wait, what did he know? Why was-? Alex began to breathe heavily as her head started to feel like it was being filled with helium. She cleared her throat, hoping to also clear her thoughts but only succeeding in clouding them further. THE MAN! Her mind screamed at her.

Several people turned around and stared at her and she realised that the words had come out of her mouth and not just stayed in the locked chasm of her mind. The shriek was but a trifle louder than a whistle over the hammering bass. She had to find the man, he knew something and it was important. She couldn't remember it now but it was important damn it!

Suddenly, a hand grasped around her waist and arms. Alex's mind seemed to jumpstart at the surge of adrenaline as she began to struggle.

"Alex! It is me!"

Alex swivelled her head to see the livid face of Sherlock above her.

"Uncle-"

"Save it!" he hissed, "Go and get in the car!"

Alex went to move when her legs suddenly felt like jelly and she buckled. Sherlock caught under her arm and literally dragged her out of the forsaken music hall and out on to the road side.

"What is wrong with you?!" he bellowed as soon as he pushed her into Mycroft's car. At the same time, Mycroft yelled,

"Why did you disobey me?!"

Alex blinked.

"He… he was there," she panted.

"I told you to stay where you were and you just blatantly ignored me!" Mycroft barked.

"I am sorry," she mumbled.

"No, Alessandra. You are not sorry, or you wouldn't keep doing reckless stuff like this," Sherlock hissed as they pulled up at Baker Street.

He took her by the scruff of her collar and marched her up into her bedroom.

"Stay here!" he ordered vociferously and slammed the door.

Alex swallowed thickly and sat on the edge of her bed. Now she had no way of contacting Logan at all after throwing her phone into an oncoming bus. _Why the hell did I do that?_

She needed to know if he was okay, so for that she needed a phone. Hoping to God that Sherlock had put his phone in his bedroom in the room next door, Alex creaked open her bedroom door as quietly as she could and snuck into Sherlock's. He was obviously downstairs with Mycroft and John so that was no problem. Alex almost cried with relief when she saw the shiny blackberry on the bed. She unlocked it with ease and typed a text to Logan.

**Hope you are alright; I got busted by my Uncles. Reckon I am going to be grounded for years. I won't be able to text back, phone got ran over – AH x**

Just as Alex deleted the chat history, something caught her attention. A message sent by: UNKNOWN. How ominous, how was she meant to resist? She opened the text and her heart almost stopped.

_File: Message_

_Sender: Unknown_

_Time: 03:01_

_Hello again, my brilliant little Holmes._

Alex memorised it completely and locked the phone. She threw it back on the bed and backed into her room to write it down before she forgot. She had no doubt that the message was for her. She was the only 'little' Holmes.

Alex threw off her clothes and pulled on her pyjamas. She was about to throw the clothes in the washing basket when something sharp protruded into her skin. She winced and pulled her jeans back to reveal the origami lotus. But something was different, the corners weren't tucked in properly, and she had made it, she knew how the corners were. She took one of the folds and pulled it back. Underneath in neat golden pen was the number 13. She unfolded the adjacent corner to unveil the number 15 and so and so on until written down in sequence were the numbers.

13, 15, 14, 31, 18, 10, 7, 1, 6, 11

Alex frowned at them. What in the world could it mean? She threw her head back into her cushion and repeated the numbers in her head, the figures spinning and flipping in her mind's eye.

**Little bit of Logan in there ;)**

**OOO, what could those numbers mean? And what about the mysterious message? And Mauris? It is all happening now...**

**Thank you to: **

**DreamBloodTear**

**PurpleDiamondDevil**

**for following/favouriting.**

**SPECIAL MEGA DIFJEHEHF THANK YOU TO:**

**E.I Cochrane: Hellooo again! Thank you for your support once again and your lovely words of encouragement :) Hope you liked this chapter x**

**tinuviel21- Hey again! Hmmm only time will tell... Hope you liked this chapter, few more pieces to the puzzle ;) x**

**GottaLoveTen- First of all... just *slow clap* I don't know how you did it but you have just topped your ****_own_**** reviews for wackiness. I don't think that I have ever laughed so hard in my life. Straight jackets? Chickens? Coathangers? Just *throws roses onto the stage* that is the way forward in life. Haha anyway, dragging attention away from that, I will definitely watch the walkthroughs my friend has heard of it before so we will watch it together. Hope you liked this chapter :) x**

**Revella- Yo-hoo again :) Thanks once again for you undying support haha. I am actually loving writing this original case so it is nice to know that people like reading it (that is always a bonus ahah). Hope you liked this chapter x**

**rycbar15- Hey again! So sorry you are feeling ill :'( hope you feel better soon. Your review really cheered me up do thank you for that once again ahah. It seems more realistic that Alex would care given that she doesn't exactly fit into the sociopath category like her Uncles. Hope you liked this chapter x **

**Rose Tomlinson- Hiya! haha, very sorry about the um... well the sadness of that chapter, I think listening to too much sad music can do that to a person haha. I hope you liked this chapter x**

**Xin0Lan- Hellloo again! haha, I apologise for my impatience when it comes to uploading my chapters haha. Yep, Alex is one little liar, just like her Uncle, n'aww bless. Yeah, I thought that she needed to be different from Sherlock in that aspect because I have read way too many fanfictions where the daughter figure is the carbon copy of Sherlock and it just gets a bit boring. My day/night got better as soon as I saw your lovely review! The letter from the wife had me tearing up a little when I was writing it haha. Hope you liked this chapter! x**

**loveinfinity- Hello again! Thank you so much for your lovely words, the letter was especially emotional to write, my dog looked at me as if to say 'Are you watching Reichenbach again, human because last time you were crying into my collar for weeks'. He is a very special dog. Getting off track just a little, I hope you liked this chapter x**

**LaughingWith- Hellooo again! Haha, I am so glad you like the story so much! I often seek emotional comfort from other fics after reading a particularly angsty one. Alone on the Water gets me every time. Thanks so much for the review and I hope you liked this chapter :) x**

**PurpleDiamondDevil- Your brother is clever! Unfortunately, he isn't the murderer as we find out what MAU stands for in this chapter but good God, well done to him for picking that out. I didn't even realise I had done that! I hope you both like this chapter and awesome guess x**

**Anon787- Hello! Thank you so much for your lovely words of support and encouragement, it really means the world. I am definitely hoping to study English (creative writing) at University so to hear your words made me scream a little bit haha. I am going to try and get work experience with the Northern Echo newspaper so *fingers crossed* Thanks once again and I hope you liked this chapter :) x**

**Whoa, I really didn't expect this much response so thank you guys all so much for you support and encouragement. Please review, I would love to hear some of your theories :D**

**-Abby**

**X **


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, all rights go to the BBC blah blah, I only own Alex.**

**Author's Note: Helloo! Hope you are all okay! So here is the next chapter where the mystery deepens...**

**Enjoy:**

_Previously:_

_She winced and pulled her jeans back to reveal the origami lotus. But something was different, the corners weren't tucked in properly and she made it, she knew how the corners were. She took one of the folds and pulled it back. Underneath in neat golden pen was the number 13. She unfolded the adjacent corner to unveil the number 15 and so and so on until written down in sequence were the numbers._

_13, 15, 14, 31, 18, 10, 7, 1, 6, 11_

_Alex frowned at them. What in the world could it mean? She threw her head back into her cushion and repeated the numbers in her head, the figures spinning and flipping in her mind's eye._

Alex's eyes snapped open. She pulled herself into a sitting position and looked around her dark bedroom, only the faint outlines of furniture visible. She leant over and flicked on the lamp on her bedside table. It sprung to life, emitting a dull glow. She didn't know why she had woken up. Neither Sherlock, Mycroft nor John had come up to see her and she had fallen asleep with the numbers from the lotus flower tumbling around in her head.

"Why have you decided to wake me up _now_? Don't you think I need a break?" she muttered bitterly to her mind.

Casting her eyes to her digital alarm clock, Alex realised that it had just gone three o'clock. Murder o'clock. She quietly stalked to her bedroom door and pressed her ear to it. She could barely hear the conversation below-

"I can't believe they got past _again_! That is four times now," a voice that Alex recognised as John exclaimed.

"Lestrade wants us over again, apparently these two bodies have some kind of plants in their hands," Sherlock informed him.

"Two?"

"Yes, there are two bodies, Marie Wilson and Stanley Crayton both from Mauris."

"Jesus," John breathed softly, "Shall I go and get Alex so we can head over there?"

"No," Sherlock said immediately, "She broke the rules and disobeyed orders. She is no longer a part of this case."

"That is a bit harsh," John commented.

"She needs to learn. This profession is extremely dangerous and we can't have her galloping around wherever and with whomever she feels like."

The lack of response told her that John had nodded in agreement and soon the slam of the door indicated their exit.

Alex gritted her teeth. She didn't care if she didn't listen to her Uncles, she was sick of being babied! This was _her _case that _she _was going to solve it. Opening her bedroom door, Alex went out onto the landing and proceeded down the stairs to Mrs Hudson's flat.

"Hello, Mrs Hudson," Alex greeted politely through the already open door.

"Hello, Alex dear! What a lovely surprise! I have been up all night with my silly hip and what is strange is I am not even tired! Anyway, what can I do for you?" she old lady rambled as usual.

"I was just wondering if I could borrow your phone. Mine is broken, do you mind?" Alex asked timidly. _It wasn't technically lying_.

"No problem, no problem," Mrs Hudson fumbled around in the front of her pinafore and handed Alex the landline cordless phone, "Always keep it in here you see."

Alex thanked her and dashed upstairs. She punched in Logan's number and pressed it to her ear.

_"Hello?" _Logan's sluggish voice answered.

"Logan. You need to get over here now. Tell your mum that you will be staying over for the next few days and pack a suitcase," Alex told him.

_"What is going on, Alex?" _his voice was now fully awake and alert.

"I have been dropped from the case but a person (who I think is the murderer) has left me a message. I know this case is made for me Lo' and I need your help."

_"So I am your John?"_

"Yes, you are my John."

She heard Logan chuckle slightly,

_"I am on my way."_

Alex grinned and took the phone back down to Mrs Hudson's flat (leaving it on the cabinet when she saw that the 'I am not tired' lady was fast asleep on the sofa).

Alex ran back up to her flat and pulled out the full wall length whiteboard that was folded up behind her wardrobe. She unravelled it and propped it up against her bed. She took out her set of pins and ribbons and laid them out along the floor. A swift knock at the door showed Logan standing there with his suitcase in one hand.

"Hel-"

"Did you correct the tilted door hanger?" Alex cut him off.

"Um, yes," he replied unsurely.

"Go back out and put it back to how it was, Sherlock will see."

Logan dumped his bags and ran back down to do as he was told.

"Done," he chirped.

"Are you wearing aftershave?" Alex asked without taking her eyes off her task of colour coding the pins.

"Yeah," Logan answered bemusedly.

"Go in the shower and wash it off, Sherlock will smell it and see right through my lying."

Logan sighed and trudged into the bathroom. Soon, the sound of running water and creaking pipes filled the flat. Alex drowned out the noise and concentrated solely on her task of printing out another set of the pictures from her phone and writing out the dialogue from her voice notes that she had thankfully uploaded on to the laptop.

Ten minutes later, she was startled out of her writing by the feeling of wet hair draping across the back of her neck.

"Logan!" she laughed and shuddered at the cold.

He sat down next to her and picked up one of the photos.

"So this is the evidence?"

"Yep. There have been two bodies found today so we just need to wait for Sherlock to get back with the photos so I can duplicate them behind his back," she smirked evilly.

"I am sensing problems between you two."

Alex sighed and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Just the usual, Mycroft and Sherlock treating me like I am a four year old made of glass. I mean, I almost had that man," Alex noted Logan stiffening at the mention of him but ignore it for now, "If Sherlock hadn't burst in and grabbed me, I would have nabbed him!"

"Yeah, but you could have been hurt," Logan reasoned.

Alex took her head from his shoulder and stood up angrily.

"There it is again! I have grown up around burglars, murderers, psychopaths and freaky experiments, I can look after myself! There was one time that I got hurt and I was prepared for it. I couldn't let Sarah die so I took it myself; it wasn't because I wasn't strong enough to fight Dao! I knew what I was doing; it was all part of the plan!" Alex burst out.

Logan stood up and wrapped his arms around her securely. She struggled to get away and rant some more but his overwhelmingly comforting smell made her instantly relax into his side.

"I know. Now come on, we have a mystery to solve," Logan nudged her gently.

"You sound like you should be on an episode of Scooby Doo," she laughed.

"You _look _like you should be on an episode of Scooby Doo," he joked back.

"Yeah, I am totally Daphne."

"Does that make me Fred?"

"Yup."

"I don't have blonde hair."

"I can _make _you have blonde hair," Alex suggested.

"Whoa no! You and hair dye do not mix, remember in Year 4?"

"Oh come on, we were eight!" Alex defended.

"I looked like Lady Gaga vomited on me," Logan deadpanned.

Alex stifled a laugh. The conversation was suddenly cut short as the front door slammed and the instantly recognisable voices of Sherlock and John floated up the staircase.

"Wardrobe now," Alex whispered as she grabbed Logan's suitcase and threw it in after him.

She shut the wardrobe door firmly and dived to her bedside table to pick up her glass of water. She took a deep breath before pouring it over her hair.

"What are you doing?" she heard Logan hiss.

"You went in the shower, Sherlock will notice. I need to make it look like it was me that went in."

Turning off the lamp, she hid the whiteboard, pins, ribbons and notes under the bed and dived under the covers, pretending to be asleep (a feat that she had been practising for almost fifteen years). The door opened just a crack and Sherlock's head poked through. He came into the room and stood over her, judging if she was really sleeping. Alex concentrated on keeping her eyelashes from fluttering and regulating her breaths exactly.

The hardest test was when Sherlock held a hand directly in front of her face. Alex sensed the movement and had to gather all of her self-restraint not to open her eyes. She just say managed it and Sherlock nodded to himself, deeming his niece thoroughly asleep. He gently tucked a loose curl behind her ear and kissed her head.

As soon as the door was shut again, Alex threw back the covers but still remained motionless. She couldn't help but feel extremely guilty. After the tender moment back there with her Uncle, she was now about to lie, cheat and go against his word, yet again. But then she thought of Samuel Aldrich. And Bailey Dobson. And Marie Wilson. And Stanley Crayton. And dear old Eric Grayson. Her mind was set. It didn't matter what problems were going on in her life, she didn't matter. What mattered was concentrating on getting the bastard that had murdered five people put behind bars for the rest of their life.

Light on her feet, Alex tiptoed out of bed and gently prised the wardrobe door open to reveal Logan hunched over his suitcase on the bottom.

"Get up, we need Sherlock's phone," she whispered.

"What do you want me to do? We can't both go down there, it will just double our chances of being caught."

"I need you to silently get the whiteboard out and spread all of the pictures and notes along the floor while I am downstairs"

She kissed him lightly on the lips and was gone.

She made sure to shut the bedroom door completely so as not to accidently blow Logan's cover. Holding her breath, Alex slinked down the stairs, taking care to avoid the dodgy floorboard on the fourth step from the top. She reached the bottom and strained her ears for any signs of movement.

"Sherlock, do you have _any _idea what this could mean? Any at all?" John asked, his voice muffled from his hand's position over his face.

"Someone is trying to be very clever but they are impatient. They got sick of waiting to kill one every night so killed two. I have not yet cracked the message with the items," Sherlock said, obviously not wanting to say 'I don't know'.

"What I want to know is how the murderer managed to get at Marie Wilson and Stanley Crayton. They were put under Scotland Yard's protection scheme after we figure that it was the job connecting the victims," John wondered.

There was a moment silence.

"We need to talk to Mr Dobbs," Sherlock declared.

"Mr Dobbs?" John frowned.

"Yes, John. Mr Dobbs! The second victim's husband, she is at Scotland Yard now!" Sherlock explained impatiently as he swung on his coat.

Alex heard the hurried footsteps nearing the door and she sunk back into the shadows cast by the staircase. She pressed herself as close as she could to the outside of the bannister and between the wall. She held her breath as the door rocked open and Sherlock and John exited. As soon as the pair had left Baker Street, Alex whistled for Logan to come down.

"I have just had a thought," he said as he followed her into the living room, "Won't your Uncle Mycroft have seen me come here the CCTV?"

"Oh don't worry, Frankie Stetson takes the three 'til five watch and he will have fallen sleep at quarter past three," Alex brushed off as she rummaged through the printed out photos of the most recent murders.

"Bingo. Lo' can you photocopy these please," she asked and handed him the photos.

He obliged and soon the two were sat up in Alex's bedroom with photos, notes, ribbons, pins and chocolate scattered around them. Alex picked up a photo of Samuel Aldrich and pinned it to the whiteboard.

"Samuel Aldrich, the first victim. Stab wounds," she picked up a zoomed in picture of his hand, "With a lock."

Logan picked up Bailey Dobson's.

"Bailey Dobson, the second victim. Stab wounds the same as the first and found with ink."

Alex swallowed thickly as she pinned Eric Grayson's photo on.

"Eric Grayson, the third victim. Stab wounds again but this time with nothing in his hand."

The fourth and fifth were pinned up.

"Marie Wilson and Stanley Crayton. Stab wounds identical to the others but these are the only ones that were killed together. It looks like heather in Marie's hand and ivy in Stanley's hand."

Alex sat back and considered the cases for a moment before picking up the post it notes and the ribbon. On one post it note, she wrote FEMALE and on the other was MALE. The ribbons then connected the victims to the appropriate category. The connections between all of them were obviously working at Mauris, all being found dead at three o'clock in the morning and having something in their hand (apart from Eric). Logan then wrote the word MURDERER on a note and pinned it right at the very top.

"What do we know about the murderer then?" Logan demanded.

"He is clever, crafty and has to be good with gadgets to take down those security cameras," Alex recited, those thoughts having been swirling around her mind while she 'slept'.

Logan wrote all of the words down beneath the note.

"Anything else?"

Alex remembered what Sherlock had told John, and took the pen.

IMPATIENT

"So what do we do now?" Logan asked.

Alex licked her lips,

"We have a stakeout."

Logan looked at her blankly,

"Excuse me?"

She turned to him and spoke intensely, unknowingly imitating Sherlock,

"All of these people were murdered at the exact same place at the exact same time. The murderer is just begging for us to wait there like the police and watch out for his next move. They are like poodles jumping for dog biscuits! If we go there disguised as patients, we slip into the storage cupboard and stay quiet; no one will know that we are there. I have the hospitals CCTV on my laptop so I can disable any camera we need to and if no one knows we are there, neither will the murderer. He won't realise that he is being watched from another angle so he won't be able to pull the wool over our eyes."

Logan contemplated their master plan for a moment, his face unreadable. Alex bit her lip. If he disagreed with her here, there was no hope. That was the only plan she had lined up.

Logan's face broke it stoic expression and cracked into a grin.

"That sounds awesome."

"Phew, you had me worried there," she laughed in relief, "The only problem is of course getting passed Sherlock and John. They are both acting really weird and I am sure they keep checking on me while I am sleeping. I think it has something to do with the message."

Logan cleared his throat uncomfortably,

"So, do you know who sent the message yet?" he asked nonchalantly.

Alex sighed and rubbed a hand down her face,

"I am not positive and I have no proof yet, but I am sure that it has been sent by, or has something to do with Moriarty, the name has cropped up plenty of times over the past few weeks."

Logan knuckles cracked, causing Alex to cringe.

"What's up with you?" she asked, he was acting really weird.

"Nothing… I just don't like the thought of you getting hurt by _Moriarty_," he hissed the name.

Alex leaned into his arm once more to comfort him.

"I will be fine, promise. Now, what are we going to do about the whole 'not letting Sherlock or John notice I am missing' situation?"

Logan suddenly grinned.

"Well, I have one idea."

* * *

Later that day, Alex was sat in her bedroom, the flat completely deserted apart from her. John and Sherlock still had not come back from the police station, and Logan had just winked, gave her a chaste kiss and disappeared out of the door. But not without a dramatic, "I'll be back," in a deep, gruff voice because he was well… Logan.

The teen sighed and let her fingertips brush over the photos of the stab wounds on all of the bodies. Something, she didn't know what, was wrong. And not knowing was driving her up the wall.

A sudden, swift rap at her bedroom door alerted her of Logan's arrival back. John's knocks were gentle and slower, Logan's were quick and rough and Sherlock, well Sherlock just didn't knock at all.

"Come in," she called distractedly, her eyes still glued to the photos.

She heard the door open but Logan didn't approach. Alex turned her head curiously,

"Are you coming in-?" she looked at the door, only to be faced with the ugliest mannequin that you have ever seen with a thick, tangled mop of greasy black hair.

"ARGH!" Alex cried out in surprise and held a hand to her heart, "Logan!"

Logan's head popped over the mannequin's shoulder.

"Hey Alex! It is you!" he pointed to it.

"You think… that I look like that?" Alex asked in a deadly calm.

"Yeah," Logan replied cheerfully, "Isn't it great."

He walked around the front of the doll to admire it.

"You think that I look like a scruffy, naked doll that you have just hauled out of the skip around the back of ASDA?"

Logan seemed to realise his mistake and backtracked.

"No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, I mean you have the same hair."

Alex's eye brows shot up in outrage as she pointed towards the crow's nest hair.

"No! I mean you have the same curly hair!" _surely that was the right answer._

Alex glared daggers at him, the only reason the damn hair was curly was because it had barbed wire coiled in it!

"Okay, you have the same _colour _hair."

Logan himself even realised what he had just said as he looked up at the weather faded black that was turning slightly grey.

"You are… um… both female!" he cried triumphantly.

"Yeah, I noticed that funnily enough due to the fact that she is completely stark naked! Why the hell did you feel the need to haul a naked mannequin over your shoulder and drag it through the streets? Didn't you get weird looks?"

"The football match was on last night, there were a lot more things worse than a naked woman going on in that square," Logan said dryly, "And anyway, she is your body double."

"She is my- _it _is my what?"

"For when Sherlock and John come up to check on you. Just pull the covers up to her forehead and she could pass as you."

Alex sighed, it was the only plan they had.

"She is going to have to have to work done, then."

* * *

Two hours later, dusk was beginning to fall and stood in the middle of Alessandra Holmes' bedroom were two Alex's and Logan. The mannequin had had its greying hair spray painted black, courtesy of Raz; had its white complexion doused in foundation; and eyes painted so they looked shut.

"Now all there is left to do is the hair," Alex grinned.

She looked at the jumble… and stopped grinning. After twenty minutes of untangling the bush, Alex took out some curling tongs from her top drawer.

"Why do _you _need curling tongs?" Logan asked incredulously.

"Oh, they were just a Christmas present from the extended family. I have never met them so they don't know what I look like," Alex shrugged as she curled a lock of 'Alex's' hair.

"But surely they have seen pictures of you?"

"Yeah, Sherlock sent them one last year."

"So they know you have curly hair."

"Well, no. Sherlock sent them a photo of a young Selena Gomez. To be fair, he was on a rather difficult case at the time."

Another ten minutes later, Alex, Alex and Logan were ready.

"We need to call her something else, I am getting mixed up between you both," Logan said, "What about, awesome Alex? Or amazing Alex?"

"Oh and what am I, average Alex?" Real Alex asked sarcastically.

Logan's eyes widened as he thought of a really good one.

"You are average Alex, and she is Alabama Alex because it says shipped from USA on her shoulder."

Alex shook her head fondly and patted the pyjama clad version of herself.

"Nice to meet you Alabama Alex."

Average Alex and Logan laid Alabama Alex down in bed and pulled the covers up to her hairline. The resemblance was actually very good, the black spray paint and curling had worked a treat.

"And now for the final touch," Logan announced and pulled a package from the inside of his jacket, "I got it from the joke shop on the way here."

He unwrapped a sort of red balloon and put it underneath the covers around Alabama Alex's chest. Average Alex raised her eyebrow but soon grinned as the balloon slowly let the air out and sucked it back in again, causing the duvet to rise and fall with it. It looked exactly like the mannequin was breathing.

"That is so creepy," Alex chuckled and shuffled closer to Logan.

"Do you think Sherlock will fall for it?"

"I think so."

And it was soon time to put it to the test as the two crafty teenagers stealthily prowled passed Mrs Hudson's door and into the night. Their destination: St Bartholomew's Hospital.

**Author's Note: So, two more murders, one found with heather and the other with ivy... hmmm how mysterious...**

**Thank you to:**

**ajudge**

**abi tandy**

**for following/favouriting**

**MEGA SUPER TRIPLE AMAZING THANK YOU TO:**

**E.I Cochrane- Hello again! Thanks for reviewing and supporting me as usual :) I hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**Marina- Hey! haha, things spiralled a little bit out of control. I read it back and was like 'how did that happen?' Hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**Rose Tomlinson- Hey again! Whoa, no killing Logan off then haha. Do you use that tactic often? We should all try that with Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. Anyway, more Logan for you so I hope you liked it x**

**Sapphire lota- Hello :) Thank you for your lovely words! The original chapters are immensely more interesting to write so I am very glad about that haha. Oh sorry about the numbers :( you are kind of on the right lines though but I can't say more that that ;) Bad English really annoys me too, if I spend my time reading someone's work, the least they can do is try to make it correct. I hope you liked this chapter x**

**GottaLoveTen- Hi again! I know when a review is from you when my emails on my phone say 'this message has been truncated due to length. To view in full, please visit site'. That gave me a laugh to start with. Then I actually go onto the site, read you and your friend's review and end up in creases on the floor. Potato? Seriously? HAHAHAHAHA, I know what to look for when it comes on the news 'girl savaged to death with a potato'. Thank you for your hilarious (as always) review and I hope you liked this chapter x**

**rycbar15- Hello again! I can't say how thankful I am to you, you review every chapter with such kind words and support that I always know that I will have an email coming through telling me that you have posted a comment. :) *gives a cumbercookie*The number thing I don't think is ****_that _****impossible but that may be due to the fact that I already know so my subconscious can't really wipe that fact clean and for me to have to work it out again... if that makes ****_any _****sense at all haha. I hope you liked this chapter x**

**Revella- Hi again! Thank you as always for your lovely reviews *gives cumbercookie* I am loving writing the original chapters so I hope you liked reading them! x**

**Kell-Bells34- Hey again! Yup, Alex has been a naughty girl *tut tut*. Logan and Alex are so easy to write for as well, they just sort of mould together, so cute *wipes away tear* it has got to the point that every time I hear a love song, I just picture Logan and Alex dancing to it or something! Hope you liked this chapter x**

**tinueviel21- Hiya again! Yup, Alex has the hardest case on her first go going solo :( Poor Alex. The date had to happen sooner or later haha. My favourite parts to write for are when Mycroft and Sherlock are being parental, it just makes me melt, haha. Hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**abi tandy- You asked for more, I gave you more. haha, hello! Thanks for you review, hope you liked this chapter :) x**

**So, the next chapter should be up by tomorrow. I am genuinely surprised at how much people like Logan! Well, Logan and Alex as a couple so I thought that he should 'play John' in this case.**

**Please review!**

**-Abby**

**X**


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer: You know I don't own it... I do own Alex though :)**

**Author's Note: Hello everybody! Urgh, back to school tomorrow so updates might have to be every other night depending on how evil my teachers decided to be. Anyway, a little bit of Alex before bedtime :)**

**Enjoy:**

_Previously:_

_He unwrapped a sort of red balloon and put it underneath the covers around Alabama Alex's chest. Average Alex raised her eyebrow but soon grinned as the balloon slowly let the air out and sucked it back in again, causing the duvet to rise and fall with it. It looked exactly like the mannequin was breathing._

_"That is so creepy," Alex chuckled and shuffled closer to Logan._

_"Do you think Sherlock will fall for it?" _

_"I think so."_

_And it was soon time to put it to the test as the two crafty teenagers stealthily prowled passed Mrs Hudson's door and into the night. Their destination: Bartholomew's Hospital. _

Sherlock burst into the flat, rage written across his face. He slammed open the door with such force that John swore 221B Baker Street shook to its foundations. They had just received another message. Another bloody message. Sherlock's mobile had pinged in the middle of questioning Mr Dobbs about his wife (for the ninth time that day), causing the whole room to glare at the consulting detective. He had excused himself (okay, he had barged out) and checked his messages to find this-

_File: Message_

_Sender: Unknown_

_Time: 22:00_

_Have you not figured it out yet? Tsk-Tsk Alessandra Holmes Tsk-Tsk._

Five hours later, Sherlock threw the phone down on the sofa in Baker Street.

"Sherlock, calm down-" John tried.

"No John! He knows my weakness! He is using Alex to get to me and I can't let that happen! Not again," Sherlock blustered.

"I am sure that she will be fine while we carry on with your plan," John consoled as he picked a warmer jumper.

The side of Sherlock's eye twitched nervously,

"What if something had already happened?"

Before John could even open his mouth, his flatmate had streaked passed him and was taking the stairs up to Alex's bedroom two at a time. Sherlock opened the door, poised to fight when he was greeted by the sight of Alex's hair poking out from under the covers of the bed, the gentle rise and fall of her chest just visible. Sherlock relaxed and walked over to his niece. She was probably still angry with him. He reached out a hand to pull her hair back and kiss her head goodnight when he felt that her locks were cold.

"John, can you bring the blanket from the back of the sofa up!" Sherlock called.

A muffled affirmation was uttered from his friend and Sherlock turned back to Alex. If her hair was cold, her skin must be freezing. He gently rested the back of his knuckles across her hair covered cheek and recoiled. She was icy!

"Alex, wake up," he coaxed, gently shaking her shoulder.

She didn't even mutter some nonsense about leaving her alone or swatting with her hand, she just lay motionless.

"Alex?"

Sherlock began to shake her shoulder more roughly and fell back with horror as Alex's head detached from her neck and rolled onto the floor. Sherlock stared at it with blank shock. Alex. Wait- why was there no blood? Sherlock tentatively turned the head so that it was facing up and was almost sick. A painted mannequin's face stared back at him.

"JOHN!" Sherlock roared.

"Yes, yes I am coming. Honestly-" John cut himself off as he stumbled into the room and surveyed the scene. He looked from his flatmate to the bed to the painted mannequin and his face fell.

"Oh no."

Sherlock jumped to his feet swiftly and picked up the John's phone from inside John's pocket. For once, John didn't resist.

"Mycroft, get every man you have on CCTV now. Alex has been taken by a psychotic murderer."

John had to admit that he was slightly impressed by the volume of the older Holmes as he could hear it clear as day as Mycroft bellowed into the mobile,

"_SHERLOCK!" _

"Just help, damn it!" Sherlock slammed down the phone and threw it back to John, running his hands through his hair wildly.

John grabbed Sherlock firmly by his upper arms.

"You getting yourself into a frenzy is not going to help."

Sherlock nodded and looked to the clock.

"We need to get to St Bart's. It is quarter to three, if the murderer has Alex, that is where they will be."

* * *

Alex and been dozing silently on Logan's shoulder in the hospital store cupboard for a good two hours and only awoke because of her boyfriend's gentle prodding.

"What?" she mumbled.

Logan held a finger to her lips and turned his watch for her to see. They had five minutes. He helped her to her feet and gently opened the cupboard door a tiny amount.

"Take out camera five," Alex ordered.

Logan sat down and opened up the hospital security that Alex had obtained and filled camera five with static. He gave Alex a nod and she sprinted to the column opposite, a blind spot for camera five and six.

"Take out camera six," she mouthed, fighting off a yawn.

And camera six was down. She ran to the next pillar and crouched down.

"Bring back camera five and six," she mimed.

Logan did as he was told and gave Alex a smile. She crossed her fingers and grinned back. Adrenaline was pumping through her body like a drug and her palms were sweaty. Oh how she loved these cases: the more dangerous the better. But that feeling only lasted while in the spotlight. Once the action quelled, that was when Alex got less excited and more terrified. The calm before the storm. The eerie silence before the East Wind. Alex abruptly stopped in her thoughts. Where had that come from? She hadn't heard anything about the East Wind since she was a little girl.

It was then that Alex noticed that Logan signalling to his watch to her. She looked down at her own and felt a surge of panic/excitement. 2:59

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.

Suddenly, the light was dragged from the room as the corridor was plunged into darkness. Alex blinked at the sudden absence of sight and gripped the wall tightly, as if she was afraid that she would be swept up by the dark if she let go. A scuffle was heard behind her and Alex held her breath as she sensed a hand moving towards her head. The hand paused, as if testing to see if there was someone there and moved passed, clearly assuming that the column that housed Alex was void of life.

Just as she thought she had gotten away with it, an arm brushed against hers and she was pushed roughly to the wall. She let out a soft gasp before a hand smothered her mouth, causing her to writhe and wriggle.

"Shut it," the voice hissed.

Alex stopped struggling, her heart pounding in her chest. She flinched as something sharp was pressed into her palm. The person threw Alex unceremoniously on the sterile hospital floor and dragged something over her legs. The teen shambled to her feet and blindly reached out to find the cupboard that Logan was sat in. Her hand brushed against the door and she was suddenly pulled in and swallowed by the cupboard.

"Are you alright?" Logan asked as he pressed his lips against hers in the dark.

"They are here," she breathed.

She pressed her ear to the door anxiously, her stomach churning. The darkness was impermeable, not even the faintest glow emitting from the street lamps outside. Alex's hand clenched and she realised that she still had the object that the murderer had given her.

"Logan, get out your phone," she whispered.

Logan pulled it out and (seeing Alex's plan) clicked on the flashlight app. The small ray was just enough to light up the cupboard slightly and Alex angled the beam to her hand. Just as she had expected, another black lotus lay there. She unfolded the corners to reveal another sequence.

27, 2, 7, 30, 32, 13, 4, 15, 6, 44, 33

"What the hell?" Alex growled in frustration and stuffed it back in her pocket. She would worry about that later.

She shone the beam through the crack in the cupboard. All she could see was the closed hospital room door. Making up her mind, Alex squeezed through the gap. She felt Logan grab her arm.

"What are you doing?" he hissed and attempted to yank her back.

"Logan, I have to."

He pulled her closer,

"No way, there is a murderer just in that room, and you want to just waltz in?" he demanded incredulously.

"There is no…" Alex trailed off; she could smell something… like chemicals.

She swayed dangerously on her feet and Logan pulled her back inside. He sat her down and shined the torch in her unfocused eye.

"Alex? Can you hear me?" he murmured urgently.

She shook her head as the dense feeling began to clear.

"Can you… could you smell it?" she rasped.

"Yeah, it isn't so bad in here though."

"It smells like sevoflurane," Alex realised.

"Care to elaborate?"

"It is just used in operations sometimes to put people to sleep- oh," she breathed, "of course."

"What?"

"Where are the police Logan? The lights have just gone out and a murderer is here right now, where are the police? The whole floor was crawling with them, so why can't we hear mass panic?"

"I- I don't know," Logan faltered.

Alex shined the mobile through the crack once more, Logan looking over her shoulder. The stream of light worked its way up the corridor floor and they both inhaled sharply when the ray fell on a certain Detective Inspector's shoes.

"Lestrade," Alex bit her lip, "It is the sevoflurane. The murderer has been feeding it through the vents gradually, that is why we fell asleep on each other. The officers must have just passed it off on working the long hours on the case. The murderer has planned all of this to the last detail. Start pumping it through in small doses from nine o'clock, six hours later, they would have inhaled enough to fall unconscious: just in time for three o'clock. That is why the murders happen at precisely that time!"

"But how come we aren't unconscious?" Logan questioned.

Alex contemplated the situation before she had the 'light bulb moment'.

"The door, tap it," Logan did as he was told, "It isn't hollow, it is solid all the way through, the gas is being fed through the corridor but we aren't in the corridor, we are sealed off. The solidness of the door means that the particles are more compacted so it will take more time for the particles of sevoflurane to get through, meaning that we have only been given a smaller dose, so we are only a bit tired. As soon as I stepped out there, I felt like I was going to faint."

"So…" Logan began slowly, "The particles are still getting in?"

"Yup."

"Don't you think we should cover our mouths?"

"Yup."

The pair immediately pulled the collars of their jumpers over their nose and mouth.

"What do we do now?" Logan asked, his eyes wide with the rush.

Alex swallowed hard.

"I need to go out there again."

"No," Logan immediately declined.

"I will hold my breath and carry on covering up my mouth! I need to get into that room. The whole reason that we are here is to catch the murderer and bring justice to the lives that they have taken and I am not just going to sit in a cupboard and wait like a good girl just because you tell me to!"

Logan glared at her but let go of her sleeve.

"The slightest sign of danger and you are back here before you can say 'hello'," he warned.

"I will be fine," she promised and pecked him on the lips before taking a deep, long breath and slipping out of the door.

She carefully stepped over Lestrade but accidently kicked some other officer in the dark. She felt along the wall and paused when she felt the open doorway of the 'murder ward'. She dared not even to breathe when she heard the scuffling of the murderer's feet as they no doubt repositioned the next poor victims. They grunted with effort and Alex took a step closer- big mistake.

Her foot caught on one of the metal bedframes, causing an almighty clang to resonate around the pitch black room. Alex practically felt the eyes of the killer burn a hole into her face. She froze stock still and resisted the urge to bolt. Running in that kind of darkness would only get you a broken foot. Alex's bottom lip trembled as she felt a hand grasp around her neck. There was no use in struggling. If the murderer was as clever as Alex believed, she was dead. Just as she braced herself for the inevitable snap of her vertebrae, all she felt was a firm hand wrap around the side of her face. It rested there for a moment before throwing Alex to the floor roughly. Alex's head hit the floor with a dull thud, causing her to suck in a breath, temporarily forgetting about the sevoflurane in the air.

Her brain suddenly seemed to slow down and her limbs became heavy. She was barely aware of the sound of the extractor kicking into life, slurping up the chemicals from the air. The lights flickered on and Alex blinked at the sudden change. Logan barrelled into the room and dived to his knees next to Alex.

"Alex? Speak to me," he pleaded.

She groaned and he helped her to sit up.

"Where are they?" she asked groggily, "The murderer, they got away."

Alex pulled herself into a standing position and allowed her eyes to trail to the next victim. Correction- victims.

A woman and man lay with their bloodied hands entwined, their skin punctured in the same way as the previous bodies. Alex gripped onto Logan's arm as she saw the objects in their hands. The man held a sharpened kitchen knife and the woman held a blood red carnival mask with intricate golden frills around the edge. They both looked in their mid-thirties and Alex recognised them from the Mauris staff list as Mr and Mrs Coville.

"They died together," Alex commented softly.

But Logan wasn't paying attention.

"Lo'?"

Alex followed his fixed stare and frowned when she saw what he was looking at.

A dusty, cobweb covered box poked out from underneath the hospital bed. Alex crouched down and pulled it out. To her surprise, the box was that of _Scrabble_. She lifted up the lid and on the playing board were nine tiles. ME.

"They left a message."

Alex snapped some photos on Logan's phone and handed it back to him.

"So what does it-?"

"ALEX!?" the distinctive voice of Sherlock bellowed through the corridors.

Alex turned to Logan with horror.

"Quick, climb out that window and shimmy down the drainpipe, I did it to get out last week. Run and don't look back, oh and take the laptop," Alex pushed him toward the window in a panic.

He quickly pressed a chaste kiss to her lips and swung out of the window.

Alex braced herself for the onslaught that was bound to occur as the hurried footsteps of, one, two, _three_ footsteps. _Oh, Uncle Mycroft as well._ Alex winced.

The unmistakeable curly hair of her Uncle Sherlock was the first thing she saw from the ward door before he stopped dead at the sight of her, Mycroft and John behind him.

"Al'…" he trailed off.

"I-" Alex was cut off as she was roughly pressed into Sherlock's chest, his hand running through her hair.

"Are you hurt?" he asked frantically.

"N-no I am fine," she smiled unsurely.

Why wasn't he angry with her? She had sneaked out and- oh. He thought that she had been taken. Damn. Well, at least that spared her the lecture.

"Are you sure, you look pretty pale," John commented, ever the ex-army doctor.

"Yeah, the murderer used sevoflurane. The extractor has got rid of it now though, the officers outside should be waking up soon," she pointed to the two bodies, "Two more."

Sherlock reluctantly let go of her and walked to the corpses, only for Alex to be embraced by her other Uncle.

"Uncle Mycroft, what are you doing here?" she asked, her voice stifled by the fabric of his suit.

"I wasn't just going to sit back while my niece was in the hands of some psychopath," he rested his chin on her head.

Sherlock crouched down to inspect the bodies and the Scrabble board. He remembered back to the text messages he had been receiving and now was the last straw.

"Alex, you are going to stay at Mycroft's for a few days until John and I get this sorted out, okay." It wasn't a question, more like an order.

"What?" she cried indignantly.

Mycroft looked down at her,

"Security at mine is one hundred times tighter than Baker Street. If anyone tries to take you, they will be faced by the toughest computer codes, hidden cameras and armed men," he reassured her.

But Alex wasn't exactly comforted by the thought. She needed to see the murderer again. She needed Logan. How was she meant to sneak out/sneak Logan in past all of that?

"I can stay at Baker Street, honestly," she tried.

"Nonsense."

Alex sighed and leaned against her Uncle as he led her out of the ward door.

"See you John, see you Uncle Sherlock!" she called somewhat wistfully and followed Mycroft out to the big black car.

* * *

Alex walked through the halls of the Holmes manner and stopped at her door. She ran her fingers over the delicate carving saying _Alessandra Holmes _that had been there since she was born. The door hanging had been recently glossed and she had to smile as she entered her home-away-from-home. Her bed was a four-poster with moreen drapery and an extremely inviting duvet. It didn't help that the after effects of the sevoflurane were still in her system, making her drowsy.

_Maybe the case can wait a little longer,_ she thought as she pulled back the covers and allowed her head to sink into the pillow.

* * *

Mycroft walked up to Alex's bedroom door and opened it a fraction to see the girl slumbering peacefully, the thick quilt pulled up to her chin. He smiled and closed the door with a soft click.

**So, that was the end of the murders. Now they have to find the murder****_er . _**

**Thank you to: **

**Karenza**

**moseleygab**

**Pandapop1225**

**batgirl94**

**for following/favouriting :)**

**MEGA SUPER DUPER TREBLE EXTRA MASSIVE THANK YOU TO:**

**rycbar15- Hello again! Having no internet is like ripping my heart out and stamping on it with hiking shoes and my internet goes off a lot because I live in a small village in basically the middle of nowhere. Rant over, haha. I hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**E.I Cochrane- Hey again! Thanks as usual for your support :) Hope you liked this chapter x**

**tinuviel- Hey again! Yup, he realised but it did take for the head to fall off though, so much for being the world's greatest detective! Haha, don't worry Sherlock, I don't mean it. I hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**loveinfinity- Hello again! Plot gets even thicker in this chapter! I hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**GottaLoveTenn- Hello again! Discobobulate... wow. I will be sure to watch out for potatoes as well. Thank you for your support as usual. And to Natalie (who told me to stick hers on the end of yours) of course I read the whole thing, several times over! You two are like Laurel and Hardy! Thank you both for your kind and wacky words, hope you both enjoyed this chapter x**

**Rose Tomlinson- Hey again! That is actually a good tactic to bending fanfics to how you want them... I may have to consider that... Hope you liked this chapter x**

**LaughingWith- Hey again! Haha, your review really got me smiling! I am glad that you like it still and I am glad that Logan has made such an impression on you. I hope you liked this chapter :) x**

**Xin0Lan- Hey again! I thought I would add something in to spice things up a little so why not a reappearance of a certain flower... Yup, Sherlock noticed eventually, only took the head to fall off! I am so glad that you like what I write and that you like Logan and Alex as a detective duo :) Hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**So, we are reaching the end of 'the Cryptic Case' (terrible name, open to suggestions) and all will be revealed in the next two chapters, but who will not make it out alive...**

**Please Review**

**-Abby**

**X**


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock at all... **

**Author's Note: Just a little filler chapter because I feel like a terrible human being for not updating tonight. I wrote this a while ago because I knew my teachers would thrust work in my face. I have to learn like, a three page monologue for George in of mice and men and my lines for St Trinian's at the theatre now I have to do an audition tape for Jane Eyre- AARRGGGHHH oh well, I have taken to listening to the lines on voice notes before bed, that helps...**

**Anyway! Enjoy-**

Mycroft Holmes sat with his feet propped up on his leather stool by the fireside in his dimly lit dining room. Night had fallen outside and autumn rain splattered miserably upon the stained glass windows, each drop hammering with the same depressing monotony of a leaking tap. Mycroft brought the glass of brandy to his lips once more and relished in the pleasurable burning sensation as it slid down his throat. He had been pondering many things while sat in this very seat. Mostly national security, his niece, Moriarty, his niece, the possible assassination of the Royal Family, his niece, World War Three, his niece, the nuclear warheads buried in the Karakoram Mountain range, did he mention his niece?

A gentle hand on his shoulder startled Mycroft from his silent thoughts. He looked up into the warm eyes of Anthea. The flames from the fire illuminated the left side of her face a low glowing auburn shade and her hair pooled lightly over her shoulders.

"Hello Anthea," Mycroft greeted, taking in the beauty in front of him.

"Hello sir," she smiled softly, "I found this and thought you may like to have a flick through it."

She handed him a leather bound album. Their hands brushed against each other during the transaction, causing them both to _almost_ blush.

"I must be getting back to work, sir," she waved and left as silently as she came.

Mycroft watched her go with a tender smile and looked down at the album in his lap. He flipped open the delicate cover and his smile widened as he was faced with a photograph of a two year old Alex smiling out at him. She was such an innocent child back then. Not with all of the boyfriends and Comprehensive School malarkey. He remembered when the only man she wanted to marry was him and she wanted Sherlock to be their dog. He wished he could go back to those days.

_"Is she okay?" Maybelline's voice fretted over the phone to Mycroft._

_"Alex is completely fine. She went to bed about three hours ago," Mycroft reassured his sister, "How is the operation going?"_

_Maybelline sighed a long suffering sigh._

_"Not too well. Sherlock got us kicked out of the only pub we have had time to go to because he revealed the affair that the barmaid was having with her boss."_

_"Surely it isn't that bad."_

_"In front of her husband of twenty years."_

_"Ah."_

_"Anyway, I have got to go; I can see Sherlock signalling me in the wing mirror. Goodbye brother."_

_"Goodbye dear."_

_Mycroft put the phone back into its cradle and leaned back in his chair. He was just beginning to allow his mind to wander when he heard a scuffle from the room next to him. Mycroft frowned and rose to his feet to open the door that read ALESSANDRA HOLMES in looped gold writing. He pushed open the brass doorknob and caught Alex wide awake at her tiny desk._

_"What are you doing up?" he asked from the doorway._

_Alex jumped and swivelled in her seat to face the source of the voice._

_"Uncle Mycwoft!" she exclaimed, holding a hand to her heart._

_Mycroft chuckled and walked over to her._

_"You shouldn't be up at this time. Most two year olds are on their second dream by now," he informed her._

_"I am almost three now, though," Alex countered with a pout._

_"But you are tired aren't you?" Mycroft asked gently._

_Alex reluctantly nodded and pulled her hair off her face to show Mycroft the black bags under her sleepy eyes._

_"Come on then, in to bed," Mycroft leant down to pick up his niece._

_"No!" she began to protest but she was already firmly in Mycroft's arms and was being taken over to her 'big girl' bed._

_Mycroft laid her down and smoothed the duvet around her body. He turned to leave when he felt a small fist clutch his sleeve._

_"What is wrong, dear?" he asked as he perched himself back onto the edge of the bed._

_"I miss Mum and Uncle Sherlock," she sniffed as her eyes filled with tears._

_Mycroft instantly wrapped an arm around the back of Alex's shoulders and hushed her quietly, remembering what to do from when she was a baby._

_"They will be back soon. They are in just in France, it isn't that far away at all," he comforted._

_Alex wiped her eyes on the back of her hand._

_"So, could we go and see them before bedtime then? Just so I can say goodnight and show Uncle Sherlock my drawing," she asked hopefully._

_Mycroft almost melted at the look on Alex's face but _just _managed to keep his composure._

_"It isn't quite that close, my dear. Why don't you show me your drawing?" he suggested. _

_Alex looked forlornly down at the quilt at the negative answer but perked up slightly at the mention of her picture. She took Mycroft's hand and pulled him over to her desk where she pulled out an A4 sheet of paper. _

_"This is you, Uncle Sherlock, Mum and me," she pointed to four blobs (one with an umbrella, one with a billowing scarf, one small one and one with long black hair), "We are all stood on the cliff in Whitby where we went for my birthday."_

_"Very good, I can see the Abbey," Mycroft praised, though it really was rather terrible given her age._

_"There is no one called Abbey in my picture," Alex frowned._

_"No, the Abbey is the old monastery were the monks used to live. You have drawn it behind the church," Mycroft explained patiently._

_There was a moment of silence as Alex regarded her picture carefully._

_"There are no monkeys."_

_"No, it is a monastery, Alex," Mycroft smiled._

_"Monstary… is that were the monsters live?" her eyes widened in fear._

_"Mon-as-trey. Where the _monks_ used to live. They were firm religious believers like the nuns in that strange film Anthea let you watch," Mycroft elaborated._

_"The one where she falls backwards into a fountain?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Ohhhhhh," Alex dragged out the word._

_Mycroft bit back a laugh and pointed to a large blocked out scribble._

_"What was meant to be here?" he asked curiously._

_Alex's face darkened._

_"It was meant to be something, but it was too scary so I scwibbled it out." _

_"What was it meant to be, Alex?" Mycroft enquired, genuinely curious as to what could make his niece (the girl who liked to hang out of the fifth floor window when she was bored) scared._

_Alex took a shuddering breath._

_"The East Wind," she uttered. _

_Mycroft's face suddenly filled with recognition. The only thing that ever seemed to scare the girl was the threat of the East Wind coming to get her. They had only ever used the threat once when she wouldn't get down from the Maple Tree in the back garden, but ever since then, all you had to do was mention those two words and she would bolt for her life._

_Mycroft sighed and scooped Alex into his arms._

_"The East Wind is just a story, it isn't real."_

_"B-but, I heard Mum saying that the nasty man that came to the house was _worse _than the East Wind. How could something be _worse _than the East Wind? And why is he after Mum and Uncle Sherlock?" Alex worried._

_Mycroft held a finger to his niece's lips and tucked her back into bed. _

_"Don't you ever worry about that man," he told her firmly as he flicked a stray lock of hair from her face, "Your mother and Sherlock will find him and make sure he never comes back."_

_"But what if he does?" Alex's voice was becoming heavier with sleep._

_"He won't. I promise you. All three of us promise you that Mr M- _that man _will never come after you," Mycroft reassured her._

_Alex gave a tiny nod as her eyelids fluttered shut and her limbs relaxed completely. Mycroft placed a hand his niece's soft, babyish cheek._

_"When the East Wind comes Alessandra Holmes, I will always protect you. I told that to your Uncle Sherlock once, just once when he was about your age. He probably doesn't even remember it but I have stuck by it throughout all of these years and we will both do the same for you," Mycroft vowed and pressed a kiss to Alex's sleeping forehead. _

Mycroft smiled to himself. He had kept his promise and looked after Alex when the East Wind had come knocking just four years after he made his promise.

"Sir?" Anthea's melodic voice rang through the air behind him.

"What can I do for you, Anthea?" Mycroft asked pleasantly.

"I was just here to tell you that Alex can't make it over tomorrow, so you have a gap of forty five minutes in your schedule," she informed him.

Mycroft nodded and realised that there was something slightly off with his PA. She kept shifting her weight from one foot to the other restlessly and had fixed her eyes anywhere but near him.

"Anthea?"

"Hm?" she still avoided his eye.

"I sense that you have something to tell me," he prompted.

"Well… I was just wondering, since you have some free time tomorrow," she finally looked him in the eye, "Would you like to, um, get some coffee with me or something."

Anthea immediately blushed and stooped her head once more.

"I am sorry sir, this is very unpro-"

"Yes."

"I understand, I will not bring this up again-"

"Anthea," Mycroft cut her off, "I said yes. Coffee with you sounds good."

Anthea's head snapped up in shock. Did he just-? No. Nope. Nada. He did! She was going on a date with Mycroft bloody Holmes!

"Th-thank you, sir! I mean, um, see you then," she gushed and opened the door to leave. She turned just as she got one foot out.

"What about the whole 'caring is not an advantage' thing?" she asked curiously. She knew Alex was the exception but _her?!_

"I suppose one can allow oneself a little leeway don't you?" Mycroft smiled.

Anthea's stomach seemed to erupt in butterflies as she struggled to keep the dopey lovesick teenager smile off her face before ducking out of the room.

Mycroft chuckled in amusement. _Well… that was unexpected._

**Author's Note: Loved writing this chapter. Mycroft with little Alex is just too adorable *bursts into tears***

**Thank you to: **

**Seth's imprintee**

**for following/favouriting**

**MEGA AMAZING BRILLIANT WOOP WOOP THANK YOU TO:**

**rycbar15: Hey, hey! I couldn't bring myself not to update haha! Thanks once again and I hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**Rose Tomlinson: Hey, I am supposed to be doing my geography revision but... meh... I have literally no tactics at all, I just weep :( I hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**Xin0Lan: Hello :) Yeah, Logan would have been in a whole lot of trouble, especially after Sherlock seeing them kiss as well. I don't actually know anything about anaesthesia (given that I am only in Y9) so I spent quite a while reading up on them. I didn't realise that some of them even existed! It was really interesting, you sound like your job must be amazing. I hope you liked this chapter x**

**loveinfinity: *holds cookie in the air with pride* Heya! Thanks again for your lovely review, it was quite intense wasn't it? haha. Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter x**

**GottaLoveTen: Hey again! I did have to read that sentence again, haha! It depends if the potato was raw. I think I would prefer to drown in mashed potato or suffocate inside a jacket potato. But not boiled potatoes, I hate them. Anyway! I hope you liked this chapter both of you x**

**jokerharley1980: Hello! I see you have joined the club... prepare... haha, I am not usually this weird, I am just in a particularly strange mood. I am so glad you like this story and I hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**bookaddict209: hey! yeah, it took the World's Greatest Detective's niece's head to roll off before he realised. Tut tut. I hope you liked this chapter :) x**

**So, next chapter ****_should_**** be the next instalment of the case (~still waiting for a name for it~) :)**

**Please Review**

**-Abby**

**X**


	31. Chapter 31

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, all rights go to the BBC, but I own Alex :)**

**Author's Note: Yo! Hi everyone, hope you all had/are having a good day :) So this is the second to last chapter in the case (which still doesn't have a name) and I hope you enjoy it-**

**(Credit to Sapphire lota for pointing out my previous mistake of making an alkali red instead of purple at the end of this chapter, thank you!)**

_Previously:_

_Alex walked through the halls of the Holmes manner and stopped at her door. She ran her fingers over the delicate carving saying Alessandra Holmes that had been there since she was born. The door hanging had been recently glossed and she had to smile as she entered her home-away-from-home. Her bed was a four-poster with moreen drapery and an extremely inviting duvet. It didn't help that the after effects of the sevoflurane were still in her system, making her drowsy. _

_Maybe the case can wait a little longer, she thought as she pulled back the covers and allowed her head to sink into the pillow._

_Mycroft walked up to Alex's bedroom door and opened it a fraction to see the girl slumbering peacefully, the thick quilt pulled up to her chin. He smiled and closed the door with a soft click._

Alex loved her bed at her Uncle Mycroft's house. It was so spacious and roomy that she could lie, spread-eagled across the whole mattress and not have the unpleasant sensation of cold toes hanging off the edge. The mattress had a layer of memory foam over the top of it. Alex grinned sleepily to herself when she remembered the joke that Anthea used to make.

_"Memory foam is rubbish! I can't even remember what your name is and you have been sleeping on it for four years!" _

Her nine year old self had howled at that for a good hour, tears of mirth streaming down her face. Anthea was always the humorous Aunty figure (who did goodness knows what on that God damn blackberry). Molly was more the kind, shy Aunty (who cut up corpses for a living). John was the gentle one (who was an ex-army doctor, suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder). Lestrade was the best mate kind of guy (who was the head of Scotland Yard). Mrs Hudson was the fluttering Grandmother (whose husband ran a marijuana factory). Mycroft was the head of the family (who just also happened to be head of the country almost) and Sherlock was the overprotective one (who solved murders for a living). _What a messed up family I have…_

A knock on the door and a pop of a head around the corner showed a grinning Anthea.

"Ohh, I don't like that face. What have you done?" Alex groaned.

"Nothing!" she defended, "I just brought you a little present."

She wheeled in a suitcase a laid it horizontally on the floor.

"Um, that isn't mine, I already have my suitcases, John brought them over," Alex explained.

"No, no. He left this one in the cab by accident."

"Look, Anthea, I know what my suitcases look like and that is not one of them."

"It is! It is!" she insisted.

Just as Alex opened her mouth to argue, Anthea gave a subtle shake of the head whilst Mycroft walked passed the door.

"What are you both doing?" he asked curiously.

"I was just dropping Alex's suitcase off, sir. Wasn't I Alex?" Anthea's eyes blinked furiously in attempt to relay the message to Alex.

"Oh, yeah. John must have left it," Alex lied with a smile.

Mycroft nodded and walked away. Alex turned to Anthea.

"What are you playing at?"

"Enjoy your suitcase," Anthea smirked and retreated out of the room.

Alex noted that she was going in the same direction as Mycroft but put that thought to the back of her mind as she regarded the suitcase warily. She hesitantly grabbed the zip, pulled it around its track and flipped the lid open.

"LOGAN!" she cried as she backed into the bed in shock.

"Shush!" he hissed and clamped a hand to her mouth.

"Are your trying to give me a heart-attack?" she whispered.

"Anthea helped me. She said that you could probably do with some company. I brought the laptop and my phone too so we can carry on with the case."

All of Alex's previous annoyance evaporated instantly as she dived at Logan, her arms around his neck.

"You brilliant, fantastic, quick-witted, arrogant sneak! I love you!"

Logan just nodded coolly and lent back on one elbow. Alex picked up the laptop and opened up Microsoft Word. She typed-

_Murderer used sevoflurane through the vents to sedate guards. They turned off all of the lights. Still unclear whether the murderer is male or female. Latest bodies found with a knife, a mask and a scrabble board._

Alex paused.

"It doesn't make any sense!" she exclaimed and threw her head back onto the duvet.

"Well, let's think about this logically," Logan teased, imitating Alex.

She rolled her eyes and threw her cushion at him.

"I am serious though," he told her as his laughs subsided, "We need to work out what these things mean. Start with Scrabble."

"It is a game. That could signify that the murderer is playing a game with us," Alex suggested.

"Okay, so we have scrabble down," Logan grinned as he typed in _game _next to the word _Scrabble._

Alex watched as Logan's fingers danced over the keys on the keyboard and she began to float back to her in-progress mind palace.

"But why Scrabble?" she asked suddenly, her eyes unfocused; "I know it symbolises a game but… why not just any game? Why did it have to be Scrabble?"

Logan stopped typing and turned to her.

"Um, it is fun?" he asked hopefully.

Alex shook her head.

"Maybe they just had it with them?"

"No… what is Scrabble? How is it different to other board games?" she pondered aloud.

"It is a word game and-"

Alex's eyes fixed on him.

"Say that again."

Logan frowned,

"It is a word game."

Alex grasped her head and shook her hair wildly as she tried to think. She jumped up off the bed and began to pace.

"A word game, a word game, a word game, a word game, a word game, a word game, HA!" she bellowed, "That's it! That is the meaning!"

She dived to the computer.

"What are you doing?" Logan questioned incredulously.

"The objects, Logan. They weren't randomly placed there. They have a meaning and I have been trying to figure it out. The Scrabble game represents a word game and that is exactly what this is, a word game! The first letters of each object make a word, a clue or something."

She began to hammer down on the keyboard.

_Lock_

_Ink_

_?_

_Heather _

_Ivy_

_Knife _

_Mask_

Logan looked over Alex's shoulder.

"Li-something- hikm."

"I don't understand," Alex muttered.

Logan patted her shoulder.

"Don't worry; you are just having a bad day."

She swung around in her chair to face him.

"No, Logan! I know what this is! It can't be anything else! Maybe I just have the objects wrong… Maybe they stand for something else," she murmured.

She held the cursor over the word _knife_.

"What is another word for a knife?"

Logan looked baffled, completely oblivious to what was going on as he cited some synonyms.

"Cutlery, cleaver, sword, utensil-"

"Utensil!" Alex cried, "It fits- Li-something-ium. It sounds like a chemical or gas of some kind…"

"We need to find out what the third letter is," Logan said seriously.

"I know, but I can't remember!"

"Do what Sherlock does; go to your mind palace."

"I can't it just… I can't remember stuff. I can work things out in it but every time I try to find the right drawer to remember something, I can't find my way," Alex uttered sadly.

Logan chewed his lip.

"Just try."

Alex closed her eyes and leaned back on the bed so that she was lying down. She tried to imagine the hospital in one of the rooms in her mind but it was just like a haze. She blindly walked down the corridor and vaguely saw the outline of Mr Eric Grayson. She tried to get her mind to focus but it just wobbled out of kilter again.

"Urgh, I can't do it!" Alex swung her head back into her pillows in despair.

Logan grabbed her hand.

"Close your eyes."

"Lo-"

"Shut up. This is my time to help you," he ordered shortly.

Alex raised an eyebrow at his commanding tone but obeyed nonetheless.

"You are stood in the hospital, you have just pushed the police tape back," Logan started and Alex slowly began to slip into her mind.

She felt the tips of her fingers brush against the tape as she stepped in.

_"You can smell disinfectant and sterility. The walls are bear with only hand wash and posters breaking it up," _Logan's voice was like a distant echo of a memory.

The scene defined infinitely. She could actually feel the disinfectant tingling her nose. She could _see _the drab, dull walls, only the vibrant red hand wash system peeking out from next to the door.

_"You walk forward with Sherlock and John behind you and kneel next to the body of Eric Grayson."_

Alex's legs seemed to move on autopilot as she was carried towards the corpse, the comfort of Sherlock and John behind her. The pool of blood was just as real as it had been then, the same shocking scarlet. Eric's bloodless face was a sharp contrast as he lay on the floor.

_"What do you see?" _

"I see his face. He looks so old and fragile. I wonder how someone would actually hurt him," Alex narrated as if in a trance.

_"What about in his hand? Can you see anything in his hand?" _

Alex pressed her face closer to Eric's left hand and saw nothing.

"I cannot see anything."

_"It was worth a try," _Logan sighed.

"Wait!"

_"What is it? What do you see?" _

"On his left wrist. It is a watch…"

Alex pulled out of her mind with a lurch and fell into Logan's arms. She scrambled back to her feet and ran over to the laptop to type in _watch_.

"Liwium," she frowned.

Logan put a hand to his face. Their plan had failed again.

"Maybe it means something else like knife meant utensil," he asked hopefully, the whole case rather doing his head in.

"Time…" Alex mumbled softly.

"What?"

"Time, that is what the watch represents. The word, the clue; it is Lithium- **L**ock, **I**nk, **T**ime, **H**eather, **I**vy, **U**tensil, **M**ask. Lithium."

"What, so they were all killed by Lithium?" Logan asked slowly.

Alex nodded gravely.

"We need to get over to the morgue."

"How do we do that? We would have to sneak passed all of your Uncle's security," Logan pointed out.

"Not necessarily. I have a plan but it involves you getting back into the suitcase."

Logan groaned and put his head in his hands. _Oh well, needs must._

* * *

"Uncle Mycroft?" Alex called as she softly knocked on his study door.

"Come on in, Alex," her Uncle replied as he hastily hid some papers in the top drawer of his desk.

Alex shuffled into the room.

"Hey Uncle Mycroft, just telling you that I am heading over to Molly's for a while. She just broke up with her boyfriend so she is quite upset," Alex sighed sadly.

"Give her my condolences," Mycroft replied insincerely and turned back to his work.

Alex nodded and backed out of the room, a secret beam of triumph written all over her face. She wheeled the heavy suitcase out of the door and quietly apologised as she forgot about the step from the porch and pulled the case down with a jerk.

"You are a danger to society," Logan's muffled voice grumbled.

"Shush, you are going to blow your cover!" Alex scolded under her breath.

Logan thankfully stayed silent after that as she pulled the suitcase into the car outside and climbed in herself.

"Where is it that you would like me to take you, Miss Holmes?" one of the chauffeurs under Mycroft's employment asked.

"St Bartholomew's Hospital, please."

"Do you have permission from Mr Holmes?"

"Yes."

The man nodded and reversed the car out of the gates with professional flair.

"Quite a suitcase you have got there to be going to a hospital," the man noted suspiciously.

"My friend works there. Molly Hooper. I am staying over at hers because she has break-up blues. I thought a suitcase full of chocolate would cheer her up," Alex laughed.

"Well then I had better hurry up so it doesn't melt," the driver smiled kindly, all suspicion dropped from his voice.

_Damn, I am getting so good at lying now. Is that a bad thing?_ Alex asked herself, _Nah._

The sleek car soon mounted the curb outside St Bart's and Alex climbed out, careful not to be too rough while pulling the suitcase.

"Thank you," she smiled at the driver.

"Anytime," he bobbed the tip of his cap down and pulled away.

Alex trundled the suitcase behind her as she entered the hospital and made her way over to the morgue. Once there, she checked that it was empty and allowed Logan to squeeze out of the case.

"Those things really need air holes," Logan complained as he stretched his limbs.

"They aren't really supposed to be used for transport," Alex muttered distractedly as she wheeled out the corpses of Samuel Aldrich, Bailey Dobson, Eric Grayson, Marie Wilson, Stanley Crayton and Mr and Mrs Coville.

"So how are we going to test for lithium?" Logan asked once he had straightened out his joints.

"I know the basic chemistry of it," Alex replied as she took out a syringe, "I wouldn't be able to identify it under a microscope, I am not yet as advanced as Sherlock but this will have to do."

"What exactly are you doing?" Logan asked, raising an eyebrow when Alex extracted a vial of blood from Samuel Aldrich.

"The pH of blood is between 7.35 to 7.45, making it basic. Lithium on the other hand, has a pH of between 10.9 and 11.5 making it a strong alkali. If blood and lithium were to be mixed, the pH would shoot up," Alex explained as she put the blood in a beaker.

"Sorry to point out a slight flaw, they wouldn't have been given pure lithium. It would have been concentrated wouldn't it? Wouldn't that make it harder to detect?"

"They would have had to have been given a lot of lithium to die instantly like that. Don't worry, it will work," Alex reassured as she pulled out a bottle of universal indicator, "If this turns a sort of browny-orangey colour, then it is just blood. If it goes purple, lithium is present. While we wait for this to work, will you go into the medical records of Samuel Aldrich."

Logan immediately pulled up a chair and typed in the name.

"The thing that I don't get is the amount of blood," Alex wondered as she closely inspected the wound on Samuel's chest, "These cuts wouldn't have bled a lot so they obviously weren't the cause of death but how did they get them to bleed so much?"

Suddenly, something caught Logan's eye and he scrolled back up.

"Alex, come over here," he called.

She walked over and perched her head on his shoulder curiously.

"What?"

"Samuel Aldrich gave blood. He went to the blood donor company right here in the hospital the week before he died."

Alex lifted her head in recognition.

"Of course, someone got hold of the blood. There must have been at least a pint in there. All the murderer would have to do would be to split the bag and allow the contents to spread along the floor. Everyone would think that it was just from the stab wound. But why? Why would they want to disguise the real cause of death?"

A small ding interrupted her stream of consciousness, indicating that it was time to add the universal indicator. Logan and her walked over to the small beaker. Alex picked up a tiny pipette and slurped up some of the indicator. She carefully carried it over to the beaker.

"So if this goes purple, lithium is in their blood?" Logan clarified.

"Yep," Alex popped as she allowed a tiny to fall into the beaker.

Time seemed to slow down as the drop plummeted to the blood. It broke the surface with a little splash and the solution turned a murky grey as it tumbled. It soon settled however and Alex gripped Logan's hand tightly as deep indigo swirled in the beaker.

"Lithium."

**Author's Note: Dun, Dun, Dun! So there is the mystery of the objects sorted out. Now all there is left to do is find the murderer. If you look very carefully, there is a hint in a previous chapter in a phone call...**

**Thank you to:**

**DonnaWatson**

**tributeforlife**

**for following/favouriting :)**

**MEGA SUPER UNBELIEVABLY HUGE THANK YOU TO:**

**Rose Tomlinson- Hey again! No problem, thank you for reviewing :) I hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**rycbar15- Hello again! Little Alex is always the best to write because Sherlock and Mycroft have to be even cuter towards her. Thanks once again for your review :D and I hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**loveinfinity- Hey again! Yeah, Anthea and Mycroft are just perfect for each other in every way haha. Thanks for reviewing and I hope you liked this chapter x**

**DonnaWatson- Hello again old friend... I stick by my earlier statement of drowning in mashed potatoes being the best way to go. But they would have to be fluffy, creamy mashed potatoes not the horrid things in plastic wrappers *cringe* I think a zombie potato would also be cool because then you would turn into a potato :) Anyways (you are both right, it does sound cool) thanks for your wacky review and I hope you keep reading :) x**

**GottaLoveTen- Hey Natalie, jacket potatoes are basically the English equivalent to baked potatoes I think. Little Alex just makes me smile :) Mycrea... hm... I like it, it is better than Anthcroft... I agree, that book would be an instant bestseller! Anyways (you are both right, it does sound cool) I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that you will still be potato mutilation free to read the next one! x**

**Xin0Lan- Hey again! Adorableness is just the best word ever! Mycroft protecting Sherlock and Alex might be the single best thing that I have ever heard! He is such a good man. OO, I always wanted to be a vet or work with animals when I was younger :))) I get the part I need to learn on Friday and it is for an audition tape to be sent to different producers and stuff so *fingers crossed* Your job is amazing, it is the kind of thing where you get a lot of satisfaction I bet. I hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**tinuviel21- Hey again! Yeah, the ending was cute. I think that Mycroft was just so relieved that Alex was okay that he forgot the circumstances. Thanks again for reviewing and I hope you liked this chapter x**

**So, what did you guys think? I am seriously bottom of my Chemistry class so it took a lot of research as far as the testing was concerned haha. I did learn a lot though. Thank you again to everybody who reviewed, you guys are awesome!**

**Please Review**

**-Abby**

**X **


	32. Chapter 32

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, all rights go to the BBC. I do own Alex though :)**

**Author's Note: Very sorry for not updating for five days :0 Life just got a little hectic, but a good hectic so I am not complaining. Another reason for this being quite slow is the fact that this chapter went through quite a few rewrites because I couldn't seem to get it right. I hope you think this one is okay, **

**Enjoy-**

_Previously:_

_A small ding interrupted her stream of consciousness, indicating that it was time to add the universal indicator. Logan and her walked over to the small beaker. Alex picked up a tiny pipette and slurped up some of the indicator. She carefully carried it over to the beaker._

_"So if this goes purple, lithium is in their blood?" Logan clarified._

_"Yep," Alex popped as she allowed a tiny to fall into the beaker._

_Time seemed to slow down as the drop plummeted to the blood. It broke the surface with a little splash and the solution turned a murky grey as it tumbled. It soon settled however and Alex gripped Logan's hand tightly as deep indigo swirled in the beaker._

Sherlock stormed back into Scotland Yard, John following before having to help up the woman that his flatmate had knocked down. He shot Sherlock a scornful look as he brushed the woman's coat down.

"It is quite alright," the woman sniffed and stepped back out of John's reach.

He gave her a quick apologetic smile and rushed after Sherlock.

"What are you doing now?" he sighed once he caught up to the Consulting Detective.

"Something other than the job has to link the people John; otherwise all of the workers at Mauris would have died. Why were only those seven chosen?"

John just shook his head tiredly, motioning with his hand for Sherlock to just carry on. The ridiculously early mornings and late nights were taking their toll on poor John. Sherlock's face twisted in disdain at his friend's obvious lethargy. _How could someone be tired in one of the most interesting cases?_

"There has to be something. The families are hiding something. Did you see the way they clenched and unclenched their fists? They were sweating and jittering, tell-tale signs of lying."

John nodded and blinked heavily to try and rid himself of his fatigue.

"So where are we going?" he asked.

"To question Mr Dobbs. He is definitely not letting on everything he knows," Sherlock muttered as he burst open another set of double doors.

"No Sherlock," John groaned, "This is the tenth time. I swear that man was on the verge of passing out last time."

"Well at least it will liven up the interview; Mr Dobbs is a particularly dull character."

"Sherlock," John cried aghast, "He has just lost his wife, give him a break!"

"The world is full of death and pain, why should I give him special treatment?" Sherlock shrugged.

"Because… because…" John wavered.

Sherlock smiled smugly.

"My point exactly."

* * *

Alex and Logan stood staring at the beaker in blank shock. The clue was lithium, the substance that the victims had been killed with. Alex broke out of her stupor first.

"We know the how, when and what. We just need to find the who and the why," she declared as she pulled out her laptop.

_Lithium overdose._

"So, to find the who, we need to know what type of person would have lithium on them," Logan continued.

"They would have to work with it or something. That was a lot of lithium in just one of the bodies so they would have to buy it in bulk and it isn't like it is something that can just be handed over the counter. Someone ordering that much lithium without a damn good reason would attract attention and raise suspicion," Alex replied.

She opened up her internet browser and typed in _Uses of Lithium. _She brought up the first page and swung the laptop around to show Logan.

_Lithium is used for treating mental illnesses, including bipolar disorder, depression, and schizophrenia; for treating eating disorders, including anorexia and bulimia; and for treating blood disorders, including anemia and low white-cell count (neutropenia)._

Logan read through the page again.

"So according to this, we are looking for a doctor," he summarised slowly.

Alex nodded gleefully.

"And not just any doctor, one who specializes in mental health. Read the whole thing, it is all about the mind: eating disorders, mental illnesses! And of course, that is how they got the sevoflurane. They must work here. All they would have to do is wait in their consulting room until three o'clock and then sneak up/down to the ward. If anyone saw them, they would just glance over them because who is surprised to see a doctor in a hospital? Oh, this is fantastic! We solved it Logan! We solved it!" Alex cried out delightedly and launched herself into his arms.

"Whoa, hold on!" he laughed, "We still need to actually _catch _the killer."

Alex paused in her celebration.

"Oh yeah… well that should be easy enough. All we need to do is find the right time slot for the shifts on the computer database and find all of the psychiatrists currently operating in the hospital. There shouldn't be too many."

Mercifully, it turned out that there only ten psychiatrists employed at St Bartholomew's Hospital. The partners in crime managed to pin in down to one person.

"Doctor Gillian Mauston," Logan grinned triumphantly.

_Why did that name sound familiar? _Alex shrugged it off and concentrated on the task.

"Hm, that's weird," Logan commented.

"What?" Alex asked as she leant over his shoulder to peek at the screen.

"It says that she is checked in. She is working overtime, that is what it says on here anyway."

"Why is that weird?"

"Because she was on nightshift last night as well. So far, she has done… um… twenty three hours nonstop."

"But…. Surely there are regulations about that?" Alex frowned, "I thought you could only work for a maximum of so many hours, surely twenty three must exceed that?"

"Maybe this isn't quite over yet," Logan mumbled gravely and rose from the computer chair, "We had better leave- according to this, Molly's shift starts in half an hour."

Twenty five minutes later, Alex and Logan had gotten rid of all evidence involving their visit to the morgue. The bodies were back where they had been found in the body bags and the beaker and universal indicator had been stashed back away. The security was down anyway, something which surprisingly, wasn't anything to do with Alex.

"Temperamental technology," Logan noted, "So how are we going to get into Dr Gillian's room then?"

"I have a sketchy plan; note the word 'sketchy'."

Logan smirked recklessly and slung an arm around his equally reckless girlfriend as they made their way up to reception (taking care to hide behind a pillar as Molly walked passed). Just as they reached the main reception desk, Alex took her watch off her wrist and slipped it loosely up her sleeve. Nodding to herself, Alex blew out a breath and walked up to the desk.

"Hello, can I help?" the receptionist asked kindly.

"Um, yes sorry! I err-" Alex purposely stumbled, her face flustered.

"Are you okay, miss?"

"I-uh have lost my watch. It was a present from my late grandmother and…" Alex put her head in her hands and Logan pulled her close to him, "I think it may be in Dr Mauston's room."

The receptionist immediately took on a sympathetic face.

"Why don't you pop along and have a look, dear?"

"But she might be busy," Alex sniffled.

"She doesn't have any patients for another two hours; she is just catching up on some paper work. You two go on and scout around, I will keep my fingers crossed for you," the woman smiled.

Alex smiled back tearfully and turned down into the indicated corridor. As soon as they passed the corner, Alex casually wiped the tear from her cheek and fixed her hair.

"I still don't understand how you do that," Logan shook his head in bemusement.

Alex winked and put a hand to his chest to stop him in his tracks.

"What?" he asked.

Alex pointed to the door to their left and Logan's face cleared with recognition. Nailed to the wood with fancy writing was the name _Dr G Mauston_ on a golden plaque.

Alex looked at Logan and licked her lips nervously.

"Are you ready?" she whispered.

"Of course."

She closed her eyes and glided into character as she knocked on the door. There was a shuffling of papers before a fumbling face peeked through an open door.

"What do you want?" the woman asked.

"Dr Mauston, is it?"

"Yes… w-who are you?" she fumbled.

"My name is Maybelline and this is my brother Max, we think our mother left her watch in here earlier," Alex lied, stepping away to show Logan.

"Oh, well…. Come o-on in," Dr Mauston stuttered.

Alex frowned as the woman's back turned to welcome them in. She didn't seem like the mass murdering type. Even Alex had to admit, it was a pretty good cover. Pushing that thought aside, she entered the room and stooped down beneath a leather sofa, pretending to look for the watch. Logan followed suit.

"So y-your name is Maybelline?" the woman clarified nervously.

"Yup."

Alex continued to scramble around throughout the dust.

There was a moment of silence before a teary,

"Liar."

Alex's eyes shot to Logan in panic. They were busted. She tried to remain calm and straightened up to her full height.

"I don't know what you mean-"

"Just stop talking, you are making things harder for yourself," the woman warned with tears flowing down her face.

Alex and Logan raised their hands in surrender.

"Why are you crying?" Alex frowned.

_Wasn't she supposed to be a ruthless killer?_

It was then that Alex saw the earpiece sitting snug in Dr Mauston's lobe.

"Is someone making you say that?" Alex questioned.

Logan nudged her in the ribs with a look clearly expressing his thoughts of 'shut the hell up'.

"I am sorry," Dr Mauston apologised shakily.

"Look, I can help you. Just take that thing out of your ear and come with me," Alex coaxed, taking a brave step forward.

Dr Mauston immediately scuttled backwards into the wall.

"NO! Don't come any closer!" she cried.

"Why are you listening to that person?"

"Y-you have to understand," she sobbed, "He has my little girl. She is only two!"

"Who does, who has your little girl?" Alex pressed, still inching closer.

"I can't tell you!"

"Yes you can!" Alex encouraged.

Dr Mauston tried to back up further but she was already against the wall.

"He will kill her," her voice cracked.

"He won't, tell me! Please!"

"Moriarty! Please let her go Moriarty, please," she begged into the ear piece.

Alex heard some instruction be whispered into the woman's ear. Dr Mauston (if possible) grew even paler.

"No," she breathed.

At that moment, a most horrendous sound split through the air. The sound of a child's pain filled scream.

"STOP IT!" Dr Mauston wailed, tears flowing thickly down her deathly pale cheeks, "I will do what you said, just STOP!"

The screaming ceased and Dr Mauston took a box out from the cabinet behind her.

"I am so, _so _sorry. Please forgive me," she pleaded.

Alex frowned and felt Logan's arm around her.

"He says that Logan Baxter has to stand over in the corner. He says that if he doesn't, he will do something to a Mr Sherlock Holmes."

Alex stiffened and shoved Logan roughly to the corner.

"Hey!" he fought back and tried to get back to her.

"Please, if our relationship means anything to you, please," Alex begged.

He begrudgingly agreed but he clearly wanted to stay with her. She gave him a reassuring glance and turned back to Dr Mauston. She came over and brought out two small white discs attached to wires. With dawning terror, Alex realised what was going on.

"I am so sorry, I am so sorry, I am so sorry," Dr Mauston mumbled over and over.

Alex nodded. She understood the crying doctor had no choice. Therefore, when the cold, merciless electrodes were attached to her, she did not resist but accepted her fate.

Another instruction was hissed into the broken woman's ear. She nodded ruefully and turned on a television screen that lay behind her. A mechanical voice jeered through it-

_"Hello Alessandra Holmes."_

"Hello Moriarty," Alex replied steely, her head held high.

_"Oh, I do love your fire. It will be a shame to extinguish it so soon in our meeting. Though of course, we have already met. I will let you ponder that one as the lovely Doctor Mauston plugs in the machine. I will put on a little soundtrack while you are working."_

Another bout of agonized howlsof a child ripped through Alex's heart. Dr Mauston fumbled with the plug and a fizzing sound emitted from the wires.

_"I am going to ask you a series of questions Alessandra, nothing too taxing, just some simple little questions. If you get it right, you get to have a break. If you get it wrong or refuse to answer, you get a shock. See, simple isn't it?"_

"Fine."

_"Okay, question one: What is seven plus two?"_

"Nine," Alex answered bemusedly. _Seriously, that was it?_

_"Good girl, that was just a practice question. Now for the real stuff. What is your dear Uncle's little pet called?"_

"Pet?"

_"Answer it. Shall I give you a clue? Army Doctor."_

"John is not a pet!" Alex cried, forgetting about herself for a moment.

She was snapped back into reality as a shot of pain flashed through her. She hissed and glared unashamedly at the television screen.

"John Watson."

_"Good! Now… let's see… Question three: Which body part does Sherlock put in the fridge the most?"_

Alex could hear the mocking tone in the drone voice.

"Thumbs."

_"I think I may heat things up a little bit. On a scale of one to ten, how much do you loooovvveeee your Uncle Sherlock?"_

"Ten," Alex answered instantaneously.

_"Aw, isn't this cute? I am running out of time anyway. Nitty Gritty stuff now. What is the code for the firewall for the Holmes security vault?"_

Alex froze. She couldn't tell him that. That was the top of the most secret things in the country. The vault held all of the secrets that Sherlock, Mycroft and Maybelline had uncovered. The information there could plunge the world into a second Dark Age.

"I… I refuse," Alex whispered.

_"Excuse me?"_

"I can't tell you that," Alex repeated firmer than before, jutting her chin out defiantly.

_"Turn it up to ten, Doctor Mauston."_

The doctor looked to Alex in horror. Alex gave the tiniest of nods, acceptance in her eyes. Mauston still hesitated. However, as another screech from the other end of the connection sounded, the dial was turned up to ten.

Alex felt like her veins were on fire. Excruciating pain sliced through her, more painful than if a grater had been pulled along and carved into her flesh. Despite her clenched lips, a shriek of agony escaped. Logan was calling her name but she could only hear white noise. She thrashed around on the sofa, her limbs spasming sporadically. Her eyes rolled back into her head. There was so much pain. A thousand knifes were being submerged inside her organs.

_"Tell me!"_

"NO!" Alex screamed rebelliously.

_"TELL ME!" _

_"_NEVER!_"_

The electricity stopped abruptly and Alex slumped forward, still periodically twitching.

_"Fine," _the voice spoke coolly, "_Then listen as this pretty young thing dies."_

A howl louder than ever before pierced the tense room. Dr Mauston fell to her knees in desperation, calling out her child's name. The noise stopped and a pregnant silence descended. Alex squeezed her eyes shut. The child…

"NOOOO!" Dr Mauston wailed brokenly, sobs racking her wrenching body, "KILL ME! KILL ME MORIARTY KILL ME!"

"No!" Alex tried to protest but a gunshot whistled through the air, shattering the window and embedding itself in the doctor's lung.

On quaking feet, Alex stumbled over to the fallen woman. Logan ran to pull the blanket hanging over a hanger in the corner of the room. He pressed it firmly to the wound as Alex tried to keep the Gillian awake.

"Come on, stay with us. You are going to be okay!" Alex reassured.

The woman's eyes were glassy and her face tear stained.

"My little girly. My daughter," she whispered.

"I know, but she will want you to live your life won't she? She won't want you to do this to yourself."

There was a pause.

Alex looked at Logan questioningly. He shook his head. She wasn't going to make it.

"You talked to my husband you know…" Gillian breathed, interrupting Alex and Logan's silent verdicts.

"Did I?"

"Dr Mauston. He is the deputy manager at Maudsley Hospital. He came home full of nerves after your phone call. I wish I could have told him that you were only fourteen. Moriarty told me everything. I am so sorry," she gushed, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes.

"Don't be," Alex crooned.

"They came in, from Mauris," Gillian explained, "They all had depression. One old man was diagnosed after his wife died. One of the others just had a miscarriage. It was common practice to give them the lithium to stabilize their mood and make suicide less likely. They weren't to know what the lethal dose was. I asked Moriarty why they had to be from the cryptologists and he said because it was _your _code to break. I got the sevoflurane from upstairs in anaesthesia. The ventilation system is behind my desk," her voice was beginning to weaken, "Moriarty took care of the lights and CCTV. I had no choice. My little girl."

She was starting to slip.

"What was her name?" Alex pressed; she had to keep the woman conscious.

"Laura. Her name was Laura."

And with her daughter's name, Gillian Mauston drifted to join her.

Alex rested her head on Logan's shoulder.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he looked her over.

She felt pale and clammy.

"I am fine," she lied, "Do me a favour though."

"Hm?"

"Don't tell Sherlock and Mycroft about the electrocution."

"What? Why?" Logan asked incredulously, "It is an excuse for them to look after you."

"They will never let me on a case again. They will never let me on my _own _again."

Logan reluctantly nodded.

Alex pulled out her mobile and dialled Lestrade's number.

_"Hello?"_

"Hey Lestrade, it is Alex. The killer is Dr Gillian Mauston and she is-"

_"ALESSANDRA, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?" _the unmistakable, livid tones of Sherlock bellowed.

"You could have told me you had Sherlock with you!"

_"You didn't really give me chance," _Lestrade defended.

"Anyway, the murderer is in-"

_"We know, Mycroft has apparently tapped my phone and is tracing your call. We are on the way over to the hospital. Stay there and I will warn you, Sherlock and Mycroft look ready to murder you."_

"Joy."

Alex put the phone down and leaned back on the wall. Logan looked at her closely.

"I had better go before your Uncles get here," he said but made no effort of moving after looking at her ill face.

"I am fine, get yourself gone before I am holding this blanket to your wounds," Alex joked weakly.

He gently kissed her quivering lips and took his leave out of the window.

Alex watched him go longingly and cringed as she heard the familiar slam of a police car door. A sharp screeching of another set of tyres followed it.

"Ah, wonderful, Mycroft is here. A lovely family reunion," Alex muttered sarcastically.

Her body was still aching and trembling from the shocks and she really didn't want to have to face her irate Uncles today.

She heard the four furious footfalls as John, Lestrade, Sherlock and Mycroft burst into the room.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING HERE?"

"-STUPIDLY RECKLESS-"

"-COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED-"

"-SHOULD HAVE WAITED-"

Each fell silent after one look at a deathly pale and shaking Alex clutching onto the hand of the murderer's corpse.

Sherlock was the first to move over to her and he held out his hand.

"Let go of her hand, Alex," he ordered sternly.

She obeyed but half-heartedly refused to take his.

"Alex."

She gave in and allowed him to pull her up. She was immediately overcome by a wave of nausea and clamped a hand to her mouth and stomach. Each adult reflexively stepped back. Alex _just_ managed to rein the contents of her stomach and leant against the wall for support.

"What happened?" John asked kindly as he took her pulse, but she could see the angry gleam in his eye.

"I just came in and saw her and… look I have just got a bug. I just want to go to bed and sleep it off."

Sleep didn't sound too bad at the present time. In fact, sleep sounded quite appealing.

"Alright, you can come back to Baker Street with me whilst you Uncles and Lestrade sort out this mess," John allowed and put a hand on her back to steer her out of the doors.

Sherlock and Mycroft watched their sick girl leave with John and wished that they could be there with her. But John was a doctor whom they both trusted; they knew Alex was in good, capable hands.

**So, that is the end of the case. I hope you all liked it and I hope it wasn't too predictable :) **

**Thank you to:**

**emilybrock101**

**Chella218**

**Huntress111111**

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**for following/favouriting**

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**Quartz KitKat- Hey, thanks for reviewing! Sorry for the later than usual update and thank you for your lovely words :) I hope you liked this chapter x**

**rycbar15- Hey again! Thank you as always for your reviews :D I am glad to know that my hard work has paid off and you enjoying it so yey! I hope to write mysteries/espionage kind of or horror... I don't know haha! Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter x**

**tinuviel- Hello again! Yup, Sherlock is going to be like the kid who gets one less present than the other sibling at Christmas. I suppose he may give her a little leeway considering the state she is in. I actually feel very guilty about doing that to her... whoops. Anyway! I hope you liked this chapter x**

**Huntress111111- Hey again! Thanks once again for you reviews! I am glad that you still like it and are sticking with it :D It really means a lot. I hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**loveinfinity- Hey again! Thanks for your reviews! The case mentioned in the Mycroft flashback will keep cropping up. It is the same case as hinted at in the circus flashback and plays an enormous part in Alex's childhood. Hopefully (if I do it right) I will piece together a picture of what happened through the flashbacks and then explain it all in a later episode :) I hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**Xin0Lan- Hello again! The memory foam joke is one my Dad tells me every morning at breakfast... Yeah. Sherlock and John would definitely have a heart attack if they found out Mycroft and Anthea were getting married. Just *explosion of perfection* Thank you for your kind words as usual and I hope that you enjoyed this chapter x**

**RoseTomlinson- hey again! Seriously, your boyfriend did that?! That is SO cool! Badass-ly cool :D Thanks for the review and I hope you liked this chapter x**

**Revella- Hey again! Yup, I felt like a right genius reciting the chemical equation for the thermal decomposition of lithium but then I forgot it all and looked like my usual dweeb self haha, thank goodness for Google. I hope you liked this chapter x**

**jokerharley1980- Hey! Fatherly Sherlock just makes me melt. It is one of my favourite things to read and even better to write :D There is a little bit of fatherly Sherlock and Mycroft at the end but this was mostly solving the case. I hope you enjoyed it x**

**GottaLoveTen- Well HEELLLOOOOOO there! Potato logic going on there haha. I bet writing out the abbreviation took you forever, I try to do them for my friends but then get half way through and just want to throw my laptop out of the window haha. Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter :) x**

**Sapphire lota- Hello! Thanks for the review! I completely messed up the indicator haha. I have gone back and changed it and gave you credit for it at the top. Thank you for pointing it out :D I hope you liked this chapter x**

**emilybrock101- Hey! Thank you for all of the lovely reviews! It seems that you are the only person who sees the shady side of Logan, how very perceptive of you haha. Very clever to work out lithium! Bloody Hell, Einstein! Anyway, sorry to keep you waiting a while but here you go and I hope you enjoyed it x**

**So, there is the case done. Thank you for sticking by this story, it means loads :) Please review and tell me what you think about the case as a whole or just the chapter.**

**Thankyou**

**-Abby**

**X**


	33. Chapter 33

_Previously-_

_ "What happened?" John asked kindly as he took her pulse, but she could see the angry gleam in his eye._

_"I just came in and saw her and… look I have just got a bug. I just want to go to bed and sleep it off."_

_Sleep didn't sound too bad at the present time. In fact, sleep sounded quite appealing. _

_"Alright, you can come back to Baker Street with me whilst you Uncles and Lestrade sort out this mess," John allowed and put a hand on her back to steer her out of the doors. _

_Sherlock and Mycroft watched their sick girl leave with John and wished that they could be there with her. But John was a doctor whom they both trusted; they knew Alex was in good, capable hands._

John arrived back to Baker Street almost carrying Alex. Alex's body felt like it had been ran over by a double decker bus and then thrown off a cliff into a sea of electrified fish.

"I can get up the stairs, I am okay really," Alex assured John.

However, as she took one step away from him, her legs gave in and John had to catch her under her arms.

"Evidently not," he remarked with a raised eyebrow.

Alex rolled her eyes but winced as the action caused her headache to increase. John looked at her worriedly as he helped her up into her bedroom. Alex threw off her jacket and slipped into bed fully clothed. John watched her carefully from the doorway.

"So what actually happened then?" he asked finally.

"I don't know what you mean," Alex replied innocently.

"Drop the act Alex. You haven't just got a bug. They don't come on this strongly this quickly and you look like death on two feet."

"Thanks," she muttered sarcastically.

"I am serious. Look, I am a doctor, I can help you," John told her kindly.

Seeing that Alex was still continuing her tight lipped composure, he added,

"And patient confidentiality still stands."

Alex looked up at him. Perhaps she could. Just for her own peace of mind- that thing had been pretty painful. She was sure there was no serious damage but it was better safe than sorry.

"And you won't tell Sherlock?" Alex checked.

"Not a word to him if you don't want me to," John promised.

"Okay…" Alex nodded.

John sat down on the stool from under her desk.

"So what happened?"

Alex took a deep breath.

"Logan and I have been working on the case. We figured out that the first letters of the objects spelt out _Lithium_ and it turns out that it was an overdose of the chemical that led to the deaths. We traced it back to Dr Gillian Mauston and we went after her. She was being told what to do by that Moriarty person again. He told her to make Logan stand over in the corner or he would hurt Sherlock. I made Logan move and faced her. She was told to bring out a box. She was crying so hard- Moriarty had her two year old daughter. He kept hurting her and I could hear the girl's screams," Alex swallowed a hard lump in her throat, "Gillian had no choice, she had to put these electrodes on me. Moriarty asked me some questions; he said that if I got the answer right, I could have a break. If I got it wrong, I was electrocuted."

John stiffened.

"The first one wasn't too bad. It just felt like an injection or a static shock. I got that on the second round."

"What question did you get wrong?"

"I back chatted and told Moriarty that you weren't Sherlock's pet," Alex admitted.

John sighed and pinched his nose between his fingers.

"You should have just done what he told you. I wouldn't have cared what you called me if it was to save yourself from pain."

"Sorry," Alex muttered.

"Please tell me that was the end of that game," John begged.

"Well… not really…" Alex began.

John groaned. Why couldn't it have just stopped there? Hadn't Moriarty played with them enough?

"It was the last question. Moriarty asked me what the code for the firewall to the Holmes vault was."

"Did you tell him?"

"No. I refused. So he told Dr Mauston to turn the machine up to…" Alex trailed off.

"Up to?" John prompted.

"Ten," Alex murmured quietly, "It hurt so much."

John's eyes widened as he let out a short gasp. He forced himself to rein his emotions in as he changed to doctor mode.

"Where were the electrodes put?"

Alex lifted down the top of her shirt slightly to reveal her neck. An angry black burn mark tainted the skin. John clenched his teeth and tried not to recoil at the sight. He had to remain professional. He had to pretend that Alex was one of the soldiers in his regiment, not a girl that he had begun to look to as a niece.

"I just need to get something for that burn. I will be back in a minute," he said and left the room.

Alex span so that she was facing the mirror and turned her shoulder blade to get a look at her injury. She hadn't realised that it had left a mark; she just felt pain all over so she didn't even notice it concentrated in one area. She vigilantly probed the skin around the blemish and winced. She had studied burns with Molly in the morgue before and recognised that her burn wasn't third degree thankfully because it hadn't gone through bone or muscle. It did look second degree however. Still, it could be worse.

John entered the room with his arms laden with supplies. He placed them down on the floor next to the bed and took out a damp cloth.

"Can you pull your shirt down a little? Thanks. Now, this is just cool water so it will only feel a little cold."

Alex nodded and shivered as freezing drips ran down her spine as John pressed the cloth to the burn. Surprisingly, it actually began to soothe the throbbing, giving Alex some temporary relief. John held it firmly and pulled it back once he was sure that the wound was clean. He then pulled out a second cloth and a bottle.

"This one has antiseptic on so it might sting a little," he warned.

He tipped the upside down, allowing the liquid to seep into the cloth. He righted the bottle, screwed the lid on and set it aside on the bedside table.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yeah."

Wasting no time, John pushed the cloth against the burn. Alex bit down on her lip as the antiseptic bit angrily at her skin.

"Just one more minute," John reassured and continued to gently dab.

He was finally done with the liquid and Alex's shoulders slumped forward in relief as the pain stopped. Next, steri-strips were placed over. John then unrolled a gauze dressing. He tenderly wrapped it around Alex's neck and under her arm to keep the bandage in place.

"All done," he smiled cheerfully.

Alex pulled up her t-shirt and was extremely relieved to see that the bandage was covered by her clothing.

"Oh, almost forgot," John fished around in his pockets and pulled out two tablets, "One is to settle your stomach and the other is just ordinary ibuprofen."

Alex swallowed the pills obediently and leaned back onto her pillows. Her eyes were beginning to close and a blissful numbness was slowly spreading from the tips of her toes to the hair on her head. She vaguely registered John placing her duvet around her shoulders before slipping into the realm of sleep. There was something hanging over her however, something was happening tomorrow. She didn't know what. She just couldn't place it.

* * *

Alex awoke with a stretch and a yawn. The sun was splaying though the crack in the curtains and the sound of birds tweeting could be distinguished. A smell of fresh coffee wafted up through her door (courtesy of John obviously). All in all, it was a pretty fine way to wake up. But Alex couldn't appreciate the morning as the same dawning dread that had been hanging over her last night had settled in her mind.

She shrugged it off and got ready for school. The first day of term was always the worst, so it was better to get it over with. After pulling on her school uniform, Alex ran downstairs to get some breakfast.

"Morning all," she greeted brightly.

Sherlock looked up in surprise but quickly hid his expression to that of annoyance.

"Why must you be so perky on a morning?" he grumbled.

Alex shook her head in amusement and walked into the kitchen.

"Hey John. Is there any toast going begging?" she asked.

John just opened his mouth to reply when two slices of toast popped from the toaster behind him. They both laughed at the fantastic timing as Alex smothered her bread with jam.

"So what are you and Sherlock doing today?"

John looked up from his newspaper.

"I am off to see Sarah. We have booked a nice restaurant for dinner and then we are going to see a film. I gave Sherlock permission to do one of his experiments in the living room so he 'can deduce passer-bys as he does it'," John quoted in an exasperated tone.

Alex giggled and forced the rest of the toast in her mouth.

"Better be off to school then."

She stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder. She was just out of the door when Sherlock called her back.

"Have you got your pencil case?" he shouted.

Alex rolled her eyes. Why did he feel the need to ask when he blatantly already knew? She hopped back upstairs and dashed to her desk to pick up the case. She was about to turn out of the room when she caught sight of the calendar. Suddenly, all of the dread made sense. The date was 13th of October- the anniversary of Maybelline Holmes' death.

Alex swallowed painfully. That day was always hard, but usually Sherlock or Mycroft would take her out or take her mind off it. Sherlock had seemed his usual self. How could he be so normal on the day that his sister committed suicide? The realisation came down on Alex like a ton of bricks: he had forgotten.

Alex laughed mirthlessly and continued out of the door. Of course he forgot. 'Caring is not an advantage'. It seemed that Alex's mother was not an exception like her daughter. Alex pushed through the front door of 221B and into the autumn wind. The sun still had some warmth clinging on from the dismal summer but a cold edge was creeping into the wind like blood through a vein.

Wrapping her coat around her, she walked over to the curb and hailed a taxi.

* * *

"Alessandra Holmes!" the curt voice of her form tutor snapped.

Alex's head shot up from its resting place on her hand and drew her eyes away from the window.

"Yes Miss?"

"The bell has gone if you hadn't already noticed."

Alex looked around the room and was surprised to see that students from the next class were filtering in and shooting Alex strange looks. Alex gathered up her books and shoved them into her bag.

"Thank you Miss Robins," Alex thanked politely.

"It is _Mrs_ Robins actually Holmes."

Alex bowed her head and ducked out of the room. She had double French next. _Oh great._ Oh don't get her wrong, she loved the French language. It was just the teacher, Mr Apolline. He hated Alex with a passion because of the time when she accidently corrected him on his pronunciation in front of the whole class. She had not meant to say it out loud but she didn't think. It was in her first year as well, you would have thought he would have been over it by now. But no-one could hold a grudge quite like Mr Apolline.

So when Alex skidded into the class five minutes late, she wasn't surprised to be given lines. Three A4 sheets, fifty on each side- double the amount anybody else would have gotten. However, Alex knew to just keep her mouth shut. Harsh experience had taught her that so she shuffled dejectedly to the back and took her seat.

"Now that Miss Holmes has graced us with her presence," Mr Apolline paused to allow the class to snigger, "We may be able to get on with the lesson. I am saying that right aren't I Miss Holmes? Less-on?"

"Yes sir," Alex mumbled quietly, she had learnt to just give him his satisfaction.

And the taunting continued. It was half an hour away from the bell for next lesson was due to ring and Mr Apolline stood up on his high horse again.

"Now, after all of that, you should all be capable of completing this writing frame about your family."

He began to hand out the sheets. Everybody immediately began to scribble down about their relatives but Alex had hit a roadblock. She hesitantly raised her hand.

"Sir?"

Mr Apolline sighed dramatically,

"Yes Holmes?"

"I was wondering what the French word for Uncle is, sir."

"Oh don't do the extended family, just stick to Mother, Father, Brother, Sister kind of thing," Mr Apolline shrugged off and turned back to marking books.

"Your essay won't take very long then," a girl on Alex's right jeered.

Alex turned to the girl she knew as Adele Thomas.

"I am sorry?"

"Oh, I can't help you Holmes. You have to _describe _your family; I don't know what the French for suicidal, useless, crackhead or dead is."

Alex's hands clenched together as she mentally counted to ten.

Don't lash out.

Don't lash out.

Don't lash out.

The anger faded as she drowned out the mockings with the mental sound of Sherlock's violin. She had programmed herself to listen to Mr Apolline however, so when he addressed her, she hastily looked up at him.

"Yes, sir?" she asked meekly.

"Are you stuck?"

"Um… a little sir."

"Just describe what one of your family members are like. Take your mother for example."

Of course, it was time for another jab,

"Alex wouldn't know about that. All she knows from her mother is how to tie a damn good knot!"

The whole class erupted in laughter and Alex hung her head. Why couldn't they understand?

The bell for next lesson couldn't have rang any sooner. Alex scooped up her textbook and pencil case and practically flew out of the door. She avoided a foot poked out to trip her over and managed to duck a balled up paper bullet aimed at her head as she took shelter in the English room. Only the trainee teacher stood in the corner, the rest of the class were mucking around in the hallway. Alex loved trainee teachers. They didn't know anything about her, so they couldn't be mean and she could just be seen as normal: something she had always craved.

Her refuge didn't last long however as the rest of the class flooded in loudly. They took advantage of the lack of authority in the trainee teacher and were even more obnoxious than usual. Once the rabble had died down, Miss Abbot stood at the board and pointed to a poem.

"Here is a poem by Robert William Service about a mother and her children. You have all been studying this so I have been told for the past two weeks so I thought that you may like to write your own poem. This one is written from the mother's point of view, so I thought you could write yours from your point of view as the son or daughter. You all have half an hour to produce the best poem you can about your mother," Miss Abbot babbled enthusiastically.

A shuffling of paper was heard as poems were born. Alex took her pen to the page and wrote _Mum_ but found that she didn't know what to write. What could she write? Everyone's was happy and lovely, full of compassion for their caregivers. What could Alex put down? Forgetting about everybody else, Alex wrote what her heart sang to her and didn't stop until she felt a stab in the back. She turned to face Millie Frailer. Oh great.

"Are you coping okay?" she asked sweetly.

Alex frowned. Was she being _nice_?

"Um… yeah thanks."

"Good," she gave another sickly smile, "I just thought it might be hard to find words that rhyme with suicide."

Alex gritted her teeth together as a cackle sounded from all those who heard.

"Or loser," one suggested.

"Or loner."

"Or lowlife."

"Or druggie."

"Or bitch."

Alex gripped onto her pen so hard that the nib snapped clean off, sending a spray of ink all over her poem and hands. Needless to say, the whole class found this very amusing.

"Miss, could I wash my hands please," Alex asked thickly, trying to rein in her tears.

The teacher nodded and stuffing her ruined poem into her pocket, Alex threw on her bag and ran to the toilets.

She leant heavily on the porcelain sink and let her tears flow. A choked sob retched from her body as all of the memories flooded back. The rope. Her mother's eyes. The ambulance. The man in the white coat and his wretched words,

_'I am so sorry."_

A hard pang in the back made Alex spin around to see the girl that had started the mockery.

"Aw look, little Alex is crying over her Mummy. How sweet," she crooned.

Alex turned back to the sink and scrubbed her hands.

"It is just; I am so worried about you Alex. Everybody is. You had to watch as your Mum threw herself to her death in front of you. How selfish is that?"

Alex couldn't take anymore,

"What do you want from me?" she yelled, grief clouding her judgement, "To hit me? Go on then, I dare you. Hit me. HIT ME!"

Millie looked at her in shock.

"SCARED OF ME NOW AREN'T YOU! GO ON HIT ME!" Alex screamed hysterically.

A strong fist connected with the side of her head, causing her vision to blur.

"Do it again! Come on! Hit me again!" Alex egged on.

A foot to the stomach resulted in Alex falling to the floor. She just kept urging Millie to repeat blow after blow until the girl got some sense.

"Alex…" Millie looked down at Alex's bleeding face, "If the teachers ask, you fell."

And with that, she left. Alex still lay in a shuddering heap. Feeling the pain and adrenaline had given her a buzz. A temporary relief. But now the relief was gone and the bell for lunch had gone. Soon, the bathroom would be full of girls texting and refreshing their makeup. Alex made up her mind and climbed out of the frosted glass window onto the pavement outside. Her feet knew where she was going.

It wasn't long until Alex was at the cemetery gates. She walked the well-trodden path to a certain gravestone and looked down at it. It was a beautiful black marble with the words _Maybelline Holmes_ inscribed onto it.

"Hi Mum," Alex greeted tearfully and knelt next to the grave, "I am sorry I forgot earlier. I remember now though and is it bad that I really want to forget? Today is always hard enough without the rabble from school getting involved. I am sorry for what happened. I shouldn't have told Millie to do it. It felt good though… Anyway, I had best be heading back before the bell rings and Mycroft and Sherlock get a call asking where I am. I love you Mum."

Alex pressed a gentle kiss to the headstone and lay down the ink blotched poem next to it. She took a step back and took a last long look at the only thing left of her mother. She turned and walked back to the gates.

The poem stood propped up in the long grass growing beside the grave.

_I remember you so clearly_

_Your black and curly hair_

_I got that off you, you know_

_A common trait we share_

_0_

_You used to tuck me up in bed_

_When the darkness felled the light_

_I was never really afraid of dark_

_But the darkness came that night_

_0_

_I heard the scuffle from my bed_

_And ran downstairs to check_

_You looked to me with tear filled eyes_

_And wrapped the rope around your neck_

_0_

_I stood below you terrified_

_Your pale face echoed regret_

_But that didn't stop you, oh no_

_As your stage was carefully set_

_0_

_I called out to you just once_

_'Mummy stop' I cried_

_You said that you would be there for me_

_But now I know you lied_

_0_

_How could you go and do that?_

_To Mycroft and Sherlock too_

_How do you think I felt?_

_When I was watching you_

_0_

_You walked forward off the step_

_And plunged towards the floor_

_I wish the rope had snapped right then_

_Instead of holding you in its claw_

_0_

_I ran to you in your last moments_

_And tightly held your hand_

_Tears were running down my face_

_As I begged for you to stand_

_0_

_The paramedics took you away_

_In a haze of blinding lights_

_Sherlock and Mycroft's arms were around me_

_As I fought my most difficult fight_

_0_

_The funeral was just as hard it seemed_

_As I reached the end of the story_

_I heard the unsaid words that lingered_

_ 'Alex, I am sorry'_

_0_

_And now my mother I have to hope_

_That return to me you might_

_But until that day, I have to wait_

_And I bid you now goodnight_

_0_

**Hey! I hope the poem was okay, I am not a natural poet to say the least haha. **

**Thank you to:**

**HPSPNDW1101**

**for following/favouriting**

**MEGA SUPER MASSIVE TITANIC ENORMOUS THANK YOU TO:**

**Quartz KitKat- Hey! I am glad you still like it! I hope this chapter was okay for you :) x**

**rycbar15- Hey again! You have just woven into my fanfic *insert twilight zone theme music here* but you did die in it so... maybe that isn't too good... I will make sure I name a character that doesn't die Laura in your honour haha. Hope you liked this chapter x**

**Dark Side of the Bright Side- Hey! Thank you! I am very glad you like it! We will find out about Alex's father soon-ish... Hope you liked this chapter x**

**Xin0Lan- Hey! I only update quickly because I lack what you probably have- a life. Haha, you think I am joking but I am serious. Sherlock is yet to deduce the electrocution so we can look forward to that! Hope you liked this chapter x**

**GottaLoveTen- Yo! One of my friends were recently ill and I had the pleasant job of mopping her forehead and holding her hair back :) I always keep a wary watch over potatoes, they are the new race of weeping angels... Hope you liked this chapter x**

**emilybrock101- Hey! Yup, Sherlock will still fake his death but the question is if he tells Alex or not that it is fake... Hope you liked this chapter x**

**RoseTomlinson- Hey! Well, I updated and you and me are in the same boat. Who needs social interaction while fanfiction exists? Hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**fmxc17- Hey! Thanks for the review! I am in love with the daughter fics so I thought that if she 'belonged' to Sherlock and Mycroft then it would be double the cuteness haha. Hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**E.I Cochrane- Hey! Thanks again for the lovely review and I hope you liked this chapter x**

**Sapphire lota- Hey! No problem :) I know, poor Alex and she gets more in this chapter! The cramp in my fingers is just a constant ache that I am used to now haha, hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**So, thanks again to everyone and as I expressed earlier, I am not a poet so I apologise for the shabby standard of the poem, haha**

**Please Review**

**-Abby**

**X**


	34. Chapter 34

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, all rights go to the BBC**

**Author's Note: Hello Everyone! Hope you are all well and enjoy this chapter. I think the next one will be the Great Game so :DD **

**Enjoy:**

_Previously:_

_"Hi Mum," Alex greeted tearfully and knelt next to the grave, "I am sorry I forgot earlier. I remember now though and is it bad that I really want to forget? Today is always hard enough without the rabble from school getting involved. I am sorry for what happened. I shouldn't have told Millie to do it. It felt good though… Anyway, I had best be heading back before the bell rings and Mycroft and Sherlock get a call asking where I am. I love you Mum."_

_Alex pressed a gentle kiss to the headstone and lay down the ink blotched poem next to it. She took a step back and took a last long look at the only thing left of her mother. She turned and walked back to the gates with only one word imprinted in her mind- freak._

Alex arrived back at the school and climbed back through the window as the girl's backs were turned five minutes before the bell. She carefully hid behind her hair as she pickpocketed one of girls and slipped backwards into a cubical. She slid across the bolt on the door and took out the makeup bag that she had acquired. Thankfully, it had a mirror inside and Alex was able to look at the damage to her face.

A fair purple bruise lay beneath her fringe and another on her jaw line. Her lip was caked with dry blood and her eye was slowly swelling up. Oh great. Alex took out her phone and followed the step by step instructions.

First thing was first, Alex took out a makeup wipe and wiped off as much of the scarlet as possible. She winced as the chemicals in the wipe irritated her cut but kept in a whine nonetheless. Her pain tolerance was really terrible but she knew she had to endure it. Once her face was more or less blood free, she smothered it in foundation to cover her bruises. Granted, it was a terribly botched job but she was hardly experienced in the field of cosmetics.

"What else is in here?" Alex asked herself under her breath.

Her eyes widened at a lipstick an extremely violent shade of plum. That would hide her bust lip. Once her work was done, Alex looked down at her phone.

_Now look at yourself in the mirror, do you look acceptable?_

"If by acceptable, you mean a slapper then yes," Alex mumbled and shoved her mobile in her blazer pocket.

She took another look at herself. Somehow, a word seemed to echo in her features and bury itself under her tousled hair- freak.

The bell rang for fourth lesson and Alex braced herself before stepping out into the torrent of students whirling past. She managed to find a gap in the stream and slipped in. Even though she had so much makeup on that there wasn't even the faintest trace of injury, Alex still kept her head down as much as possible. There was no two ways about it, she was completely paranoid.

Alex slipped into her seat in maths and was immediately confronted by her maths teacher.

"Alessandra Holmes!" the booming voice of Mr Chatterjee bellowed.

"Yes, sir?"

"Take that gunk off your face now Miss Holmes."

Alex froze.

"S-sir, I can't-"

"Nonsense! Take out a wipe and rub it off. Here," he handed her one from the Pupil Support Drawer.

Alex looked at it with dread. If she wiped it off, all of her bruises would be visible for the whole school to see.

"Sir, honestly I can't," she apologised.

He looked down at her dauntingly, his beady eyes fixed on hers. Nobody said 'no' to Mr Chatterjee.

"Very well Miss Holmes," he began coolly, "Off you pop to the Behavioural Support Unit."

Alex inwardly groaned. She was so screwed. And that was her thought as she pulled on her bag and slouched down to the BSU. She hesitantly knocked on the door and was immensely relieved to see Mrs Baker answer.

"Hello Alex, what can I do for you?" she asked pleasantly.

Mrs Baker was the only person in the whole school who seemed to stand Alex. In fact, she actually quite liked the girl.

"Mr Chatterjee sent me down here," Alex told her quietly.

Mrs Baker looked at her pityingly and put a hand on her arm to lead her into the room.

"Sit down," she pointed to an empty chair pulled up against a desk.

Alex obliged as Mrs took the seat opposite her.

"Now, tell me what happened."

"I walked into class and Mr Chatterjee told me to take my makeup off. I refused."

"Why did you disobey him? And whilst we are on the subject, you don't usually wear that much makeup. In fact, you never usually wear any at all…" Mrs Baker trailed off looking at Alex expectantly.

Alex sighed. It was over now. She took a wipe from her pocket and pulled it across her face. Mrs Baker visibly shrank back at the sight.

"I need to make a phone call," she declared shakily and stood up from the chair.

Alex gripped onto her sleeve.

"Please don't tell my Uncles, please!" she begged.

Mrs Baker just shook her head and picked up the coiled up telephone from its cradle. Alex heard every beep as the well rang number of Sherlock's mobile was dialled.

* * *

Sherlock laid with his head propped up against the armrest of the sofa. His experiment was over with and now he was purely enjoying his procrastination. See, there were some times when Sherlock would be so bored that he would want to rip himself apart but there were other times (usually whilst alone) that he relished in the tranquillity of doing absolutely nothing. And now John was with his girlfriend, Sherlock had the flat to himself.

His bubble of peaceful solitude was popped however as the annoying ringtone that Alex had programmed his phone to have pierced the barrier. Sherlock sighed deeply and threw open the phone without bothering to look at the number.

"Whatever you want, whoever you are, I am not interested. Goodbye-"

"Mr Holmes!" a female voice chastised.

Sherlock frowned, he knew that voice. He pulled the mobile away from his ear slightly to check the caller ID and did a double take.

"Why are you ringing me? Is Alex okay? No forget I said that. Of course she isn't okay otherwise you wouldn't be ringing. Shut up Sherlock! What has happened?"

"I think you had better come to the school Mr Holmes."

And with that, the phone line buzzed off.

Sherlock stared at the blank screen for little more than a second before throwing on his billowing coat and dashing out to hail a cab.

It didn't take long at all for the taxi to mount the curb outside the school and Sherlock was immediately out and prowling up to the reception. He burst through the doors and was met by a bumbling receptionist.

"Hello, c-can I have your um… name please," she stuttered as she rose from her chair.

"Sherlock Holmes, here for Alessandra Holmes," Sherlock informed her impatiently.

She motioned with her hand for him to go through the door to his left. Sherlock realised with a sigh that the door was to the Behavioural Support Unit. What had Alex been doing now? Sherlock pushed open the door and his gaze fell upon a crestfallen Alex slumped in a chair in the middle of the room.

"Alex, what is going on?" he asked sternly.

Alex refused to make eye contact with her Uncle and kept looking down at her shoes, her hair conveniently falling over her face. Sherlock walked over and crouched next to her.

"What is wrong?" he asked gently, deciding on a different approach.

Alex still clamped her lips together and refused to let a peep out.

Sherlock took a lock of her hair and tucked it behind her ear. Alex knew it was game over as she felt her Uncle's hand stiffen. She couldn't help the tears that leaked out of the corners of her eyes. She felt worthless. Completely worthless.

"Al'…" Sherlock faltered.

She slowly raised her head to meet him, revealing the extent of her bruising and the salt water tracks down her cheeks. Sherlock didn't say a word, just pressed her to his chest safely and tucked her head under his chin. She let out a low sob against his coat and he hushed her lightly. He brought her head back and examined the damage. His jaw set in anger as he recognised the fist shaped bruising pattern.

"Alex darling, who did this to you?" he asked through gritted teeth, clearly trying to keep a hold of his temper.

"I fell," she replied almost silently.

"Alex, I know what mark a punch makes," he reminded her, trying to come to terms with the fact that he was seeing it on his Alex's face.

"I fell," she repeated but her voice cracked on the last syllable.

Sherlock was in physical pain watching the girl that he had raised in such a state so placed a hand on the back of her neck to lead her out of the door. He unknowingly pressed on the burn mark from the electrocution and Alex repressed a flinch. Sherlock had found out about the beating but there was no way that he was about to find out about _that. _She allowed him to take her out of the main reception door and out into the car park.

They were halfway across when Alex felt something sharp hit the back of her head. She stopped in her tracks and bent down to pick up the object that had been hurled at her. It was a paper aeroplane. She unfolded it and felt her heart sink.

_Freak_

That was all it said. She screwed it back up and stuffed it in the bin next to her. Sherlock had read it over her shoulder and felt a bubble of anger. There was no way that he was letting Alex go through what he did.

"As soon as we get home, I am going to get you out of that school," he promised her sincerely.

"What is the point?" Alex grumbled.

Sherlock turned to her frowning,

"What do you mean?"

Alex broke out of his one armed embrace and walked over to the side of the road.

"Whatever you say, wherever you take me, it will just keep happening… because they are right. I am a freak," she uttered softly and turned to walk down the path.

Sherlock caught her sleeve and pulled her back.

"Don't you ever say that," he whispered viciously, "You are the furthest from a freak that it is possible to be and don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Alex held his gaze. If her Uncle was right, why did everybody she met at school seem to hate her with a passion? Why was she always the condemned girl with no friends? Deciding it was easier just to lie, Alex replied with,

"Okay…"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed, almost as if he could hear her brain screaming '_LIE_' but let it drop.

"Let's just go home," Alex sighed and leaned against Sherlock as he hailed a cab.

* * *

Alex lay motionless on the sofa, her head faced toward the wall. She had been in that position since they had arrived back and showed no signs whatsoever of moving. All of the events that had taken place in the last few hours were stirring around in her head like a bubbling pan filled with pain. Why was it always her? Why the hell couldn't she just have a bloody break?!

"Right, get up," Sherlock ordered without taking his eyes off his violin.

"What?" Alex moaned.

"I am sick of you moping around. Get a game and we will play it."

Alex raised an eyebrow in consideration. As much as she wanted to wallow in her self-pity, games with her Uncle always promised to be entertaining to say the least.

"Fine. But not Scrabble. I will just get a quiz thing from the internet," she scrolled down on her mobile, "Okay, I am going to ask you some questions to see what character you would be in Doctor Who."

"Fine."

"Question 1: Do you like the idea of time travel?

Yes - oh, the places you could go!

Maybe - but wouldn't it be scary?

No - it sounds too dangerous."

Sherlock contemplated this.

"Yes, I could go back to the scene of the crime before it is even committed."

"Okay… Question two: If a stranger invited you aboard his time machine, would you go?

Yes - it's an opportunity to good to pass up

Maybe - there are other considerations

No - you don't want to go at all

No - you're the one doing the inviting."

"No I don't want to go at all. Whoever this stranger is, there is an eighty percent chance that he is, as Mycroft so delicately puts it 'a goldfish'."

"A gold fish with a time machine?" Alex asked disbelievingly.

Sherlock shrugged.

"Okay, question three: Are you good with following instructions?

Definitely - you play by the book

A little bit - if there's a better way, though, why not?

Not at all - you strike out on your own."

"I play by the book," Sherlock answered confidently.

"Sherlock."

"Fine, not at all," he surrendered.

And so and so on the game went until Alex reached the end of question fifteen.

"You got the Doctor! It says: _On the outside, you are a bit goofy_ (I don't actually agree with that) _but inside you care deeply about your loved ones. Despite the way you involve yourself in other people's lives, you are super secretive about your own life_…"

Ignoring the first part, that was actually quite accurate. Sherlock did care very deeply about Alex and John, and he didn't divulge that much information about himself.

"So is the Doctor good then?" Sherlock asked cluelessly.

"Yes. Congratulations, you have succeeded in as an Uncle," Alex laughed, the quiz really lifting her spirits.

Sherlock smiled proudly and leaned back in the armchair. He regarded his niece for a moment and deemed it an appropriate time to bring up the question that had been stewing over in his head all day.

"So how are you coping then? With today I mean," Sherlock added.

Alex furrowed her brow.

"I thought you had forgotten. You didn't bring it up this morning."

"You were in a good mood and seemed to have forgotten yourself, I didn't want to bring you down," Sherlock sighed.

"I thought you had deleted the date from your mind palace, maybe it wasn't important enough," Alex muttered ashamedly.

Sherlock leant forward and rested his elbows on his knees.

"Your mother was a lot of things, but unimportant? No. Definitely not… Mycroft on the other hand-"

"Okay!" Alex interrupted, "We don't need another hour long lecture on the insignificance of Mycroft Holmes. You have to admit that his job has managed to get us into some high security places."

"I suppose. I could have gotten us in without him if I had to; I just thought that it would be nicer on him to feel included," Sherlock shrugged as he skilfully diverted attention away from the significance of the date.

"You are literally the worst liar in the world," Alex chuckled.

She stood up and headed for the kitchen.

"Do you want some tea?" she asked.

"No thanks, can I go on your laptop though?"

"Why are you asking-? You already have it don't you?" Alex guessed from the kitchen.

"Yup," Sherlock replied, popping the 'p'.

Alex shook her head fondly and turned to the kettle. Even if she didn't have her Mum anymore, she still had Uncle Sherlock. He really was a fantastic parental figure, no matter what anybody said. Alex was confident that you couldn't find someone whom cared about their own child more than Sherlock cared about her. Maybe he didn't openly show affection every hour of every day, or maybe he was obnoxious, rude and ignorant of current affairs but all you had to do was look at the loving gleam in his eye that appeared every time he looked at his Alex to know that the girl was his world.

"Alex!" Sherlock yelled from the living room.

Alex rolled her eyes and stuck her head out from around the kitchen door. Fantastic time to interrupt.

"What?"

She took in her Uncle's terror filled face and stiff posture. His knuckles were white against the sofa armrest.

"Uncle Sherlock, what has happened?"

"This website has a whole load of 'hot young Russian brides waiting for me'! Help! I was only editing on Wiki Answers!"

Alex just burst out in peals of laughter. Her Uncle was so beautifully naïve.

**Bit of a lighter ending :) **

**Thank you to:**

**13girlsrule**

**bella cullen the original**

**erobin**

**for following/favouriting **

**MEGA SUPER MASSIVE AMAZING THANK YOU TO:**

**rycbar15- Hey again! Thanks, didn't mean to make you cry. When I read you review, I burst out laughing at 'wormed my way into your story and died, sounds about right'. I just imagined you saying it in such a blunt, frank voice that just sets me off in hysterics. I am actually chuckling as I write this. Hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**angelmusiclove98- Hellooo! Whoops, sorry for making you cry, honestly didn't mean to! Thank for your lovely review and I hope that you liked this chapter x**

**GottaLoveTen- Yoo! Yup, Weeping Potatoes sounds actually brirrifying and you should seriously edit that scene, tumblr would crumble at the seams. Yeah, Alex got it tough in the last chapter. The dialogue reminded me a lot of my school so it wasn't really a big stretch to come up with the taunting. I think if people were able to punch fictional characters, there would just be a puddle of corpses in the fandom graveyard... Death by potatoes written on their headstones... Well, that escalated quickly, Anyway! Hope you enjoyed this chapter :) x**

**Huntress111111- Hey! Thanks again for a lovely review. Yeah, sorry about the last chapter being a bit sad :( I was quite worried about the poem but it seemed that I _just _managed to pull it off haha. Hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**tinuviel- Helloo! Sorry about the sadness :'( And don't worry, justice will be dished out very soon once a certain umbrella wielding uncle finds out... Hope you liked this chapter x**

**Sabre Lilac- Hello! Sorry for the sad chapter, I had been planning it for a while and I didn't realise how sad it would actually be, hopefully this chapter was a bit lighter for you :) x**

**emilybrock101- Hey again! Thanks again for the great review. I suppose all authors on here want to make people connect with characters so your words really meant a lot to me and I can't wait to explore Alex's character in more depth :) Hope you liked this chapter x**

**loveinfinity- Hey! Thanks for the lovely review :) The poem was quite difficult to write so I am very glad that you liked it! Hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**Guest- Hey! Well, Sherlock knows now and it won't be long before the government gets informed so we have that to look forward to :D I am sure they will both help her. Thank you so much for your review and I hope you liked this chapter x**

**Revella- Hey again! I agree, kids are really horrible (even though I am younger than the ones doing it to Alex haha). I feel like I am writing this for every reply but sorry for how sad it was and hopefully the humour at the end of this one balances it out :) I hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**Sapphire lota- Hey again! I am in the same boat as you, my poetry is not amazing to say the least but I love a good poem to sit down and read. I love delving into Alex as a character and slowly unravelling the mystery of her past and feelings, it is my favourite thing to do when I write :) Your comeback is actually amazing! I was laughing my head off for ages and I got the email at 04:14 so my Mum came in to see what all the fuss was about. Ah, good times... Hope you enjoyed this chapter :) x**

**Rose Tomlinson- Hey! Thanks for the great review as always ;) I am very glad you liked the poem since I struggle in the field of poetry so your words mean a lot :) Hope you liked this chapter x**

**E.I Cochrane- Hey! Thanks again for the lovely review as always and I hope that you like this chapter x**

**fmxc17- Hey! Thanks! It took me longer than I care to remember... Thanks for the lovely review and I hope that you like this chapter x**

**SHERlocked14- Hey! Yeah, just turn a blind eye Alex. Does anybody _like _bitches like that? Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter and thank you for the review :) x**

**Xin0Lan- Hey again! Thanks once again for the great review. It was a very tough chapter to write but I enjoyed writing it. Yeah, Alex got the rotten end of the luck pool :( but she does have two awesome uncles to make up for it! I wish I could play an instrument. All of my friends do and they try to teach me but I just can't grasp it, I prefer to express myself through writing, it sounds like you have got quite a few outlets! Lucky you! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**So, once again, I am sorry about the sadness of the previous chapter but I really wanted to show the true extent of the pain and turmoil that is going on inside Alex and how she puts on a mask to hide it all. I wanted to show that she isn't perfect and has many flaws and insecurities. I hope that came across. Anyway, I hope you all liked this chapter and it would really mean an awful lot if you reviewed, even just one word :)**

**-Abby**

**X**


	35. Chapter 35

**Author's Note: Hey, this chapter gets pretty violent and scary so I am just warning you. Thank yous will have to be in the next chapter because my Mum is nagging me to go to bed so I promise to say the thanks in the next chapter **

**-Enjoy**

"_Alex!" Sherlock yelled from the living room._

_Alex rolled her eyes and stuck her head out from around the kitchen door._

"_What?"_

_She took in her Uncle's terror filled face and stiff posture. His knuckles were white against the sofa armrest._

"_Uncle Sherlock, what has happened?"_

"_This website has a whole load of 'hot young Russian brides waiting for me'! Help!" _

_Alex just burst out in peals of laughter. Her Uncle was so beautifully naïve._

Alex had wished Sherlock a goodnight (John still out with Sarah) and retired to her sleeping quarters at ten o'clock. He had waved his hand dismissively and gone back to muttering over his notes. Alex had just rolled her eyes and slipped snugly under the covers. Soon, she was dreaming-

_She was stood in an unfamiliar room. The features of the room were blurred and out of sync, so much so that the whole scene just seemed to blend into itself. She just managed to make out that she seemed to be in a corridor. A very old fashioned corridor, belonging to a very old fashioned house. It was dimly lit, only peeling wallpaper visible._

_A distinctive smell wafted passed Alex's nose. Sweat. Alex curled her lip in disgust; she could deal with all sorts of smells: decomposing bodies, manure, Sherlock's Frankenstein-worthy experiments, but she could not deal with the smell of sweat. She could tolerate it in a life or death situation. But otherwise, just… no. _

"_Focus," she muttered to herself. _

_Her own words seemed to ricochet of an invisible barrier causing the sound to warble and disjoint. However, a small tinkling sound of a child's singing crept through-_

"_**Ten green bottles hanging on the wall,**_

_**Ten green bottles hanging on the wall,**_

_**And if one green bottle should accidentally fall,**_

_**There‛ll be, nine green bottles hanging on the wall**__."_

_The voice was soft and eerie, almost inhuman. Alex felt a shiver run up her spine as she heard a light patter of footsteps. She focused her eyes and through the mist was a young girl in a long flowery dress. The girl kept taking one timed step forward and seemed unaware of Alex's presence. Her patent leather shoes tapped slowly on the deep wooden floorboards. _

"_**Nine green bottles hanging on the wall,**_

_**Nine green bottles hanging on the wall,**_

_**And if one green bottle should accidentally fall,**_

_**There‛ll be eight green bottles hanging on the wall."**_

_Alex watched in a petrified state as the melodic tones swam from the girl's mouth. As she passed, Alex looked closely and saw a striking resemblance to someone she had seen recently. Who was it? She couldn't think. But she did know one thing; the girl was much too pale. Her skin seemed to almost glow like silvery silk. Alex was reminded of a porcelain Victorian doll. The girl rotated on her heel to advance around the corner of the corridor. As she turned, Alex's jaw dropped. _

_A large, ugly bloodstain blossomed over the little girl's back. Crimson spread across the fabric like a cancer and as Alex leaned forward to inspect further, she was almost sick. A deep, fist sized hole sunk into the girl's flesh. Bone and torn muscle protruded from the gaping wound and yet, the girl carried on singing, not an ounce of pain reflected in her face. _

"_**Eight green bottles hanging on the wall,**_

_**Eight green bottles hanging on the wall,**_

_**And if one green bottle should accidentally fall,**_

_**There'll be seven green bottles hanging on the wall."**_

_It was then, as the blood matted hair fell over the girl's shoulders that Alex placed the similarity. Dr Gillian Mauston. It clicked. The girl was Gillian's daughter. The hole was caused by a bullet, fired from Moriarty. All because he wanted to play a game with Alex. _

"_No," Alex breathed softly. _

_The girl stopped. Her singing stopped. Her head rose from where it was inspecting her frills on her dress and stopped dead in front of her. She was stood with her back toward Alex and gradually turned back so that they were facing. It was the first time that the girl had acknowledged Alex's attendance. She met her eye with such cold ire that Alex took a subconscious step back. _

"_You know me. Don't you?" the girl cocked her head slightly to the side as she spoke. _

_Alex nodded, her eyes wide with terror. _

"_Laura."_

"_My Mummy used to call me that. No one calls me that anymore. There is no one here to call me that. This is where I am bound now Alessandra," her voice raised, "This is where I reside until the planets stopped spinning, until the moons of the great solar system fall to their demise, until time itself rips itself apart and the sun cascades into death, plunging the world into a final darkness."_

_Laura spoke with such vigour and literacy that no child should possess. The girl seemed to pick up on Alex's thoughts and smiled coyly._

"_Oh yes, you are quite right. The old… 'Laura' was it? That bumbling child would know nothing of the impeding rapture. She could hardly string two words together without stumbling and asking her 'Mummy' for an ice cream. But she changed. She was improved and upgraded to me. Moriarty upgraded her and I am the result, an astute, shrewd and all-knowing being… But I am alone. I am alone in this house. This God forsaken house. I don't know where the corridors go, they twist and move and trap me in an infinite labyrinth. That is when the old Laura comes out and sings that incessant song-"_

_Laura's head jerked forwards violently and snapped back up,_

"_**Seven**__**green bottles hanging on the wall,**_

_**Seven green bottles hanging on the wall,**_

_**And if one green bottle should accidentally fall,**_

_**There'll be six green bottles hanging on the wall."**_

_Laura shrieked as she morphed back into the 'upgraded version'._

"_Do you see what I mean!? It is driving me insane!" her face convulsed again, "Help me! Alessandra help me! Dr Jekyll needs to hide! Mr Hyde is coming to get her! She needs to… wait, isn't that me? I am Dr Jekyll aren't I? I don't know anymore… Mr Hyde, am I Jekyll?" she fell abruptly to her knees._

_Alex was quivering in fear as Laura looked up at her. It seemed that both Jekyll and Hyde had merged together as Laura rose from the floor._

"_You could have saved us," 'they' stated plainly._

_Alex shook her head, her eyes filling with tears._

"_Honest, I couldn't-"_

"_You could have saved us."_

"_If I could have I would have-"_

"_You could have saved us."_

'_They' were beginning to advance towards Alex._

"_If it meant dying, I would have but I couldn't!"_

_Alex backed into the wall as a pale, slender hand reached out toward her._

"_Please-"_

"_YOU COULD HAVE SAVED US!" 'they' screeched and plunged their hand through Alex's chest._

_Alex felt like she had been submerged in icy water. Black ink seemed to seep into her blood and spread through her veins like wildfire, burning and freezing at the same time. Her back arched in pain and the last thing she saw were the brutal, feverish eyes of 'Laura' and the crooked snarl before her eyes rolled back into her head and she fell through the wall._

Alex shot up in her bed and clamped a hand to her mouth to stop herself from screaming. She couldn't interrupt Sherlock. Her eyes darted around the room for any sign of 'Laura.' Her breaths were strangled rasps as she attempted to regulate her breathing once more. Bitter tears sprang to her eyes as another corpse came crashing down on her conscience. Mum, Soo Lin Yao, all of the lithium murder victims, Dr Mauston and now Laura. Dear sweet Laura, driven insane.

Alex squeezed her eyes shut as she flung her head back into her pillow. She lay awake for the rest of the night and just as she managed to catch five minutes before dawn, a small echo of a voice rang in her ears.

"**One green bottle hanging on the wall,**

**One green bottle hanging on the wall,**

**And if one green bottle should accidently fall,**

**There would be no green bottles hanging on the wall."**

**0**

**Hope that was okay,**

**Please Review**

**-Abby**

**X**


	36. Chapter 36

**Author's Note: Hello! Hope you are all having a good weekend Here is chapter thirty six, whoa. That is insane…**

**Anyway, enjoy-**

_Previously: _

_Alex shot up in her bed and clamped a hand to her mouth to stop herself from screaming. She couldn't interrupt Sherlock. Her eyes darted around the room for any sign of 'Laura.' Her breaths were strangled rasps as she attempted to regulate her breathing once more. Bitter tears sprang to her eyes as another corpse came crashing down on her conscience. Mum, Soo Lin Yao, all of the lithium murder victims, Dr Mauston and now Laura. Dear sweet Laura, driven insane._

_Alex squeezed her eyes shut as she flung her head back into her pillow. She lay awake for the rest of the night and just as she managed to catch five minutes before dawn, a small echo of a voice rang in her ears._

Alex rolled over on her side as she groggily awoke from her sumptuous five whole minutes of slumber and saw with a sigh that it was four thirty in the morning. It was far too early to get up and watch TV, but it there was no way that she was going to be able to fall back asleep.

"Oh what to do?" she murmured aloud.

The nightmare was still fresh in her memory and seemed to be taunting her every time that she thought she had forgotten about it. Deciding that she needed something to take her mind off the whole ordeal, she swung her legs over the side off the bed and pulled herself to her feet before quietly tiptoeing out of her door.

A quiet, rhythmic snoring sound could be heard from John's room, reassuring Alex of his unconsciousness. She popped her head into the living room and was surprised to see that it had been one of the rare occasions that Sherlock must have vacated to his bedroom. Alex ripped off a piece of paper and scribbled on-

_Going for a run. See you in a while – AH x_

Oh yes, that was right. Alessandra Holmes was going on… wait for it… a run. With actually running involved, not just throwing a bottle of water over herself and pretending to pant when she reached Baker Street, actual running. She figured that it would give her time to reflect and try to make sense of the chaos inside her head before it surrendered her to insanity.

And with that cheerful thought, Alex quietly pushed open the front door and stepped out into the cool morning breeze.

* * *

London was always at its best in the morning. It had a beautiful bleary atmosphere as the city began to awake. You could just imagine it stretching its arms behind its head and letting out a well-rested sigh before allowing the inhabitants to begin their movements to head to work (or the dole office, depends which way you swing).

Deciding that it was time to do some actual running, Alex picked up her knees and allowed her body to fall into a leisurely jog. Don't get her wrong, she loved running- she had to run all of the time from crazy murderers- but that was sprinting. Give Alex 200m and you could kiss goodbye to first place because she was damn fast, but long distance… well, let's not go there. She had tried to take runs before but they just ended in her going turbo-speed into the city centre, then collapsing onto a bench and wheezing for a good five minutes.

She had been jogging for around ten minutes now and was slowly approaching the park gates.

_Time for a break, me thinks._

She slowed down her pace to a saunter as she rounded onto the gravelled paths of the park. It was blissfully empty,

"Of course it is, it is four o'clock in the morning," Alex soliloquised.

Not a soul was in sight, only the comforting hum of blurry eyed insects hidden in the bushes. Alex didn't know why she didn't come here more often at this time. The solitude was serene and with living with Sherlock, some peace and quiet was just what the doctor ordered. She couldn't live without her fix of adrenaline though.

She stopped at a bench and was about to drop into it when she felt someone's eyes on her. She turned to see a small girl, no older than six, sat on her own on the bench across the pond. As soon as the girl realised that Alex was looking at her, she quickly bowed her head and became very interested in her shoes.

Alex abandoned the thought of the seat and walked over to the bench that the girl occupied. She plopped onto it and studied the child.

"So what is a girl such as you doing out here at a time like this?" Alex asked with a smile.

The girl averted her eyes from Alex as she spoke,

"Mummy said that I mustn't talk to strangers."

"Quite right to," Alex nodded, "But I am only trying to help, you look a bit sad."

It was true, the girl in front of her had blotched skin around her eyes and there were distinct tear tracks down her flushed cheeks.

"I am not sad."

Alex grinned at the blatantly untrue statement. It reminded her of her own 'I am fine' lie that she commonly used.

"I am Alex, Alex Holmes," Alex held out her hand, "What is your name?"

The girl mentally debated her next action but settled for a quick hand shake.

"April Ambon."

"Cool name," Alex commented.

A brief silence fell.

"Sometimes people call me Pril. Is your name short for anything?" April asked innocently.

"It is… but it is a secret," Alex replied mysteriously.

This grabbed April's attention as she spun around so she was facing Alex.

"Could you tell me?" she asked excitedly.

Alex mimed zipping her lips and throwing away the key.

"Please! Pretty please!" April begged.

Alex was amazed at how one small fact could send children into such a state of eagerness as she shook her head once more.

"I won't tell anyone, I promise!"

Alex pretended to consider the statement and chewed her lip in thought.

"Pinkie promise?" Alex held out her finger.

April readily hooked it with her own with ecstasy written all over her face.

_Seriously, how can finding out someone's name be such a source of pleasure?_

Alex looked around the deserted park as if trying to spot any eavesdroppers desperate to catch her name. She bent down to April's ear,

"My full name… is Alessandra," she whispered.

April's eyes widened in awe as if seeing Alex in a whole new light.

"You are like one of those princesses from Egypt that we get read to about! You could be sisters with Cleopatra!" the young girl exclaimed.

Alex allowed a bubble of laughter to escape from her throat at her new friend's enthusiasm. She had succeeded in making her trust her.

"So going back to my question, April: what are you doing out here at this time in the morning?"

April's face drained of all of the happiness that it had gained from hearing Alex's 'royal' name and she seemed to shrink back into the shy, edgy girl that Alex had first sat next to.

"It is my big sister. She had the bad stuff again," April breathed.

"What bad stuff?"

"The calahol," the girl shuddered at the word.

Alex frowned and mimed the words to test them in her own mouth to see if it fit into her vocabulary.

"Oh, alcohol?" Alex asked as she rearranged the letters.

April nodded sadly and rubbed her tired eyes with the back of her knuckles.

"She came home shouting last night. She slammed the door really loudly and my window wobbled. She came up the stairs and her and Mummy were arguing. Jenna, that's my sister, said some mean words to Mummy and that made her cry. And Mummy crying made me cry! Then I heard Jenna throwing up in the toilet so I held her hair back. Usually, Jenna would say thank you but last night she just pushed me back and ran off to her room. Mummy told me that Jenna was going to have a baby but she is only seventeen, I thought mummies were older than that. I said that to Jenna and she shouted at me. I got scared and ran here and I heard crashing and the living room lamp breaking as I sneaked out," April sniffed and ducked her head to hide her face.

Alex rested a hand on the girl's shoulder. She would have hugged her (Alex being the opposite of her uncle in the tactile department) but she didn't want to make the girl uncomfortable.

"Do you want me to tell you a story that might make you feel better?" Alex suggested.

April nodded, trying to contain her tears. She was determined not to cry.

"Okay, well, I live with my Uncle and he is called Sherlock- I know, it is a funny name, I think our family has a craze for them," this got a weak smile from April, "But anyway. I went to live with my Uncle Sherlock when I was seven. I was meant to be given to him when I was six but there was a problem. You see, Uncle Sherlock has an extraordinary mind. It is truly phenomenal, but that means that he gets bored very easily and he would do anything to stop being bored. So… he kind of… well… he dabbled with drugs, which are like alcohol. He would get into a lot of trouble and he became very ill. When I was supposed to go and live with him, my other Uncle, Mycroft, told him that he would have to get clean otherwise he wouldn't be able to look after me. For a year, I lived with Uncle Mycroft and I thought that Sherlock didn't want me anymore. But you know what he did?"

"What?" April asked impatiently, hanging on to Alex's every word.

"He turned his life around. He went to rehab and got clean from the drugs. He stopped being so mean and moody all of the time and eventually, Uncle Mycroft said that I could go and live with Uncle Sherlock. And you know why he got clean?"

"Why?"

"Because of me. Because of the people that he loves, even though he would never admit that. He knew that as long as he was taking the drugs, there would be a wall between the two of us. So he knocked it down and hasn't touched anything like that since. And that is what your sister will do. I know it is. She will stop drinking for you and your family and her own baby but you just have to be patient and try not to slap her as I tried not to slap Sherlock most of the time," Alex grinned.

April smiled a genuine smile that lit up her eyes and wrapped her arms around Alex's middle.

"Thank you, Alessandra," she whispered sincerely, her voice muffled by Alex's jacket.

Alex patted the top of the girl's head.

"No problem. Now, I think we had better get you back home. Lead the way soldier," she teased.

April stood up straight and saluted before marching forward, making sure that Alex was following. Alex smiled; it felt good to make a difference. It seemed to cancel out the wrongs that she had done. She knew that the murders were her fault and she knew that it was her fault that so many families were currently grieving, but it was satisfying to know that she had potentially changed a girl's life for the better.

The duo stopped at the top of a street of terrace houses and April turned to Alex.

"Thank you Alessandra Holmes," she smiled and reached up on her tiptoes to place a soft kiss of Alex's cheek.

Alex raised her eyebrows in surprise but happiness nonetheless. April smiled back at her and crept into her silent house next to where Alex was stood. Alex watched as a small hand peaked out between the curtains and gave a small wave. Alex returned the gesture and set off back to Baker Street.

* * *

She arrived back just before six o'clock and Sherlock was sat in the kitchen.

"Hello, why didn't you wake me up when you had a nightmare," Sherlock asked without looking up from his paper.

Alex shook her head; there was no beating around the bush with bloody Sherlock.

"It wasn't important," she replied nonchalantly as she busied herself with the arduous task of making some tea.

"Then why did you feel the need to escape the house for a run at four o'clock this morning?"

"You were asleep, how do you know what time I left?" Alex turned to him suspiciously while the kettle boiled.

"Mycroft texted me with a lecture on my parenting skills. Or lack of, anyway. Apparently, I am supposed to keep you on a choke chain until you are eighteen. But then of course it will be raised to twenty one by Mycroft, just because he can," Sherlock narrowed his eyes at mid-space, as if pretending to glare at his insufferable brother.

"I am pretty sure that Mycroft doesn't just make up laws to spite you," Alex chuckled as she poured the boiling water into the mug and plopped in a teabag.

"Are you sure about that? What about the 'It is illegal to enter the Houses of Parliament in a suit of armour' law that he made up?" Sherlock countered.

Alex giggled as she sat down opposite him with her tea.

"That case was pretty funny though."

"Hey, it was a good disguise! It was just a little difficult to get off, that's all," Sherlock defended.

"You rolled sideways onto the benches and broke the head of the education committee's arm. That is rule one in the art of disguise though, make sure you can actually get rid of it once it is no longer needed."

Sherlock pulled a face at her and turned back to his paper.

"Can I borrow your phone?" Alex asked after taking a sip of her drink.

Sherlock gave a noncommittal wave of his hand toward the sofa and Alex took that as a 'yes' as she picked up the phone and typed in Logan's number.

**Hey, how are you feeling? I didn't see you at school so I assumed you must be ill. –AH x**

His reply was instantaneous.

**WHERE THE BLOODY HELL HAVE YOU BEEN? I HAVE BEEN TEXTING YOU CONSTANTLY FOR AGES! – LB x**

**Sorry, I told you, my phone got demolished by that bus remember. I am on Sherlock's phone. – AH x**

**Okay, at least you haven't been brutally murdered. Anyway, I have been trying to get hold of you because I am meant to be going down to Cornwall for a fortnight starting tomorrow to see the extended family and I was wondering if Sherlock would mind me staying with you instead. – LB x**

**Oh yeah, he will be completely cool with that. – AH x**

**Really?! – LB x**

**Yep, as soon as he gets the appointment booked for you castration then he will be fine. – AH x**

**Haha, very funny. Oh how I wish that I could convey sarcasm over text. Could you at least ask him? – LB x**

Alex sighed and obliged.

**Hi, it is a no go I am afraid. I am pretty sure than John will have to do CPR on Sherlock in a moment. Or dislodge the newspaper that he was just basically inhaled. – AH x**

**I figured as much; see you in a couple of weeks then. Love you! – LB x**

**Love you too! – AH x**

Alex smiled as she deleted the chat history, it was Sherlock's phone after all and those last three words would probably send him into a coma.

**Author's Note: Hey, hope that chapter was okay. I thought after so many angsty chapters that it was time for a bit of a lighter one **

**Thank you to:**

**SugarHobbit**

**XxMoonWolfxX**

**Kaitlyn-alyssa**

**NerdyGirl0414**

**Fishie Custard**

**Sian5858**

**aliana bishop**

**ArchangelInTheTardis**

**For following/favouriting **

**MEGA SUPER HUGE THANK YOU TO:**

**Rose Tomlinson- Hey! Thanks again for a wonderful review! But good God! A doll. Knife. Kitchen. I seriously hope that your Mum was just joking with you. Dolls are just plain creepy though… Anyway, I hope you liked this doll-free chapter x**

**emilybrock101- Hey, thank you once again for you lovely reviews. I am considering a ride in the black car once Mycroft finds out about the bullying so we still have that to look forward to Your words really meant so much to me so thank you for that and I hope that you liked this chapter x**

**loveinfinity- Hey! Yeah, I think the doctor and Sherlock would get on well. But I think that it would be like big cat diary when the two alpha males fight for dominance. And no-one could replace John of course haha. They will find Laura's body in a coming chapter that I have planned out. Hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**hallo-hannah- Hello! Thanks for the great review, it really made me smile like an idiot haha. I do that with fanfics, I watch the shows again and just think 'why isn't John kissing Sherlock yet' and then I remember that Johnlock doesn't actually exist… *weeps* Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter! X**

**rycbar15- Hey! Thanks again for your fantastic review and continuing support :D I am really looking forward to writing the Great Game so I will probably start writing it in a couple of chapters or so. Thanks as always and I hope that you enjoyed this chapter x**

**Xin0Lan- Hello! Thank you once again for the constant brilliant reviews and support Maybelline did mean a lot to Sherlock but not as much as Alex means to him. We will see in later chapters that he still holds some anger towards his sister because of her suicide and how it affected everyone. Little Avril helped Alex without knowing it I think in this chapter, especially after the dream. Hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**DonnaWatson- Helloo! Oh, where to begin… firstly, I hope you took my pm to heart and I meant every word of it Loved your chapters! Now, onto the reviews, thanks for the amazing reviews, as you were going to school, I was coming in so it was really strange when I got the email. As for me being evil… well I won't dispute that. Looking back, Alex has been through some serious stuff (you will see in later chapters) so whoops! But she lives with Sherlock so that makes it all worth it- right? I am just saying this to make myself feel less Moffat-y. I didn't expect the response to Logan that I got so I am very pleased and shocked with that! Anyway, I hope you like whichever chapter you are on and keep writing yours :D I look forward to the next chapter! X**

**E.I Cochrane- Hey! Thanks once again for your relentless support and encouragement! I can't wait for the next chapter of Clara :DD I hope you liked this chapter and I look forward to your next update x**

**angelmusiclove98- Hey! Yeah, thinking of Sherlock getting bullied at school just is the saddest thing ever! It just makes it more likely that he would react more strongly to Alex getting bullied as well. I hope you liked this chapter x**

**fmxc17- Hello! Thanks again for the great review and thanks for sticking with this story! I hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**Megthegoodtwin- Hey! Thanks once again for your lovely review! Sorry, I don't want to be responsible for anyone's nightmares, haha. Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter and thanks for sticking with it x**

**Quartz Kitkat- Hey! Yeah, the last chapter was very creepy, whoops. I just needed to get across how vulnerable and scared Alex is. Anyway, thanks for the great review and for sticking with this story, hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

**So, thanks again to all of you! I find it quite challenging writing the romance scenes between Logan and Alex given my age and general naivety in that area haha. I consider my boyfriend to be my laptop. And that has to be one of the saddest things I have ever written. Ah. So anyway, Logan is off to Cornwall so we won't be seeing him for a few chapters unfortunately.**

**Please Review**

**-Abby**

**X**


	37. Chapter 37

**Disclaimer: I only own Alex. All rights for Sherlock go to the BBC.**

**Author's Note: Sorry for the lack of updates for a few days, it has been a challenging week. Anyway, here is the next chapter!**

**Enjoy:**

Mycroft Holmes was sat in his study when one of his surveillance team walked in. Mycroft rolled his eyes. Oh what now?

"Joseph, if Japan hasn't sank into the sea, then I am not interested," he announced distractedly with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Japan is still intact, sir."

"Good, then go away."

"It is about Alessandra, sir."

Mycroft laid down his pen and gave Joseph his full attention.

"What about Alex?"

"She has been assaulted by a girl in her year and I trust that you haven't forgotten what day it was two days ago."

Mycroft wiped a hand across his face and sighed. Of course he hadn't forgotten, he had just assumed that Sherlock would have had the situation under control. Evidently not.

"Your brother picked her up after the incident and from the footage, it looks like they had a little bit of a disagreement," Joseph continued, seeming slightly anxious as to what his boss's reaction would be. I can't say that I really blame him.

Mycroft stood up and checked his watch- 12:30am. Perfect, Alex would be asleep.

"Get a car ready Joseph and tell the driver to prepare the quickest route to Baker Street," Mycroft ordered and picked up his trusty umbrella.

Joseph nodded accordingly and backed out of the room to fulfil his employer's wishes. Mycroft gritted his teeth in anger once Joseph had left. He leaves Sherlock one thing to do, one responsibility: look after Alex. One thing!

* * *

Alex sighed and rolled onto her back. She had been tossing and turning for a good two hours now and her apparent inability to drift off to sleep was beginning to irk her. She had tried everything, counting imaginary sheep, drinking camomile and even listening to a soothing playlist from the internet. Nothing had made any difference whatsoever. If anything, it only made her more agitated and restless. But the most annoying thing was that she didn't know _why _she couldn't get to sleep. Fair enough if she was stressed over something but things were beginning to look up. She was out of that horrid school, Sherlock hadn't forgotten about Maybelline's death, and Alex had just helped a little girl earlier that day, so why was her body not cooperating?!

"Maybe I could go and get a book," she murmured from her position on her back.

She nodded to herself, deeming her plan worthy of pulling herself out of bed (not that she was doing much in it).

She walked through to Sherlock's bedroom and stooped down under his bed to pull out one of his books, _the Founding of the Periodic Table and the Impact it Made in Modern Medicine and Science_- if that didn't send her to sleep, nothing would. However, just as she stood up to leave, something caught her eye through the gap in the curtain. She gently pulled it back and peeked through.

She frowned.

A black car laid mounted on the curb outside, and not just any old black car, Uncle Mycroft's black car. What could Mycroft possibly want enough to actually visit Sherlock? Alex threw down the book on the bed and backed out of the room. She poked her head down the staircase and her eyes lit up as she saw the light on in the living room.

Alex found that she couldn't have stopped her legs from moving her forward if she had wanted to and suddenly, she was outside of the closed door of the sitting room. She pressed her ear against the wood and listened.

"I cannot believe you, how did you not notice?" Mycroft questioned in a whisper, obviously not wanting to wake his already woken niece.

"She is very good at hiding things," Sherlock defended in an equally quiet tone.

"She is a teenage girl, for God's sake!"

"Well I didn't see you riding in with the answers to everything. If she is so transparent, how come you didn't do anything to stop it, or are you too busy to notice her?"

Alex winced, that was a low blow.

"Sherlock, you know that Alex is above all of my work," Mycroft replied coolly.

The girl couldn't help but feel a small fuzz of happiness swell inside of her but pushed away the vain thought to concentrate.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Mycroft. It is no wonder that Maybelline left Alex to _me_."

"Yes, and in case you have forgotten, you were too busy getting so high at the time that you couldn't even remember that you had a niece!" Mycroft hissed back.

Alex stepped back from the door like she had been burned. This wasn't her territory and she felt like she was intruding on something that she should never meddle with. The conversation was between Mycroft and Sherlock alone, she had no business there.

Walking lightly on her feet, she made her way back to her bedroom and crawled back into her bed. She felt dirty. She wished that she had never heard the argument at all. She wanted to know Sherlock as the man he was now, not the junkie he was then. She wanted to forget, she needed to forget.

And so it was, that she reached down to the foot of her bed and picked up the plump satin decorative pillow and unzipped it. She reached in with an eager hand and pulled out her prize: a bottle of single malt whiskey. She quietly unscrewed the cap and tipped it upside down to form a tiny bowl. She poured a miniscule amount into it and stared down at the contents. She only ever had a drop or two, never any more. She remembered the first time she had turned to it when she had just gone to live with Mycroft after her mother had died. She had overheard Mycroft telling one of the staff to get him a glass of the whiskey. When Alex had asked him why he wanted it, he had replied with,

_"It helps me to cope with recent events."_

Alex had waited until Mycroft had left to make a call before dropping to her knees in front of the coffee table. Blinded by grief and wanting nothing more than for it to stop, she had gulped down a mouthful. After the disgusting taste, it had numbed her pain and she had used it ever since.

She was in no way an alcoholic, however, because the most she drank was perhaps a quarter of a bottle over a period of nine months and only when things got too much.

She was surprised that she had lasted this long to be honest. Things had been pretty terrible but she had seemed to forget about her coping method. But now, as she threw her head back and received the drink, she was completely aware of it once more. She winced as the liquid burned her throat and soon felt the soothing effect glide around her body.

She grinned to herself and stored the bottle away safely back into the pillow before slipping under the covers and blissfully drifting off to sleep, free from nightmares.

* * *

Alex awoke feeling light and refreshed. She jumped out of bed and pulled on some clothes before advancing down into the living room.

"Hey John," she greeted with a beaming smile.

John looked up at her with surprise from his position in front of the television.

"Good morning Alex. You seem happy today," he remarked.

"Yeah, well," she flopped down onto the sofa, "I don't have school, so."

John sent her a glance. He had heard all about the bullying incident from Sherlock and felt a bubble of anger rise in his throat. He managed to push it down however, at the content look on Alex's face.

"Well, I suppose one good thing came out of the situation. What are you doing today then?"

"I have no idea."

"Why don't you visit Logan since I am sure that he has bunked off school to see you again," John smiled knowingly.

"He is in bloody Cornwall for two weeks," she grumbled and crossed her arms grumpily.

John bit his lip so as not to allow a chuckle escape at the look on Alex's face.

"I bet he has good reason to be."

Alex sighed and nodded,

"So what are _you_ up to today?"

John casually switched the channel to a cookery programme as he answered,

"Oh well, I thought that I might go and see Sarah."

Alex's lips turned up into a smirk.

"N'aww, isn't that cute," she cooed.

John blushed crimson and threw a cushion her way. She ducked it with ease and laughed.

"I am only kidding. You should go 'round there now and make her breakfast. Make them pancakes that you made for us that time- pancakes and Lestrawberries!"

John shook his head in amusement as he recalled that morning and considered Alex's suggestion.

"I might just do that… but who will look after you, though?"

"Sherlock obviously," she replied.

John stared at her for a moment.

"You do know that Sherlock isn't here," he began slowly.

Alex raised her eyebrows and craned her neck around the room.

"Oh yeah… hmm… I get so used to him not replying when he is in his mind palace that I don't even notice him anymore… where is he?" she asked unconcernedly.

"He left a note," John answered, pointing over to the kitchen table, his eyes glued to the television as he switched it to the news.

Alex rose from her seat and approached the note.

_Case has come up. Gone to Belarus. Be back soon. Don't open the microwave._

Short and sweet. Rebelliously, Alex reached up and popped open the microwave door. She wrinkled her nose as a ghastly smell hit her sinuses and she took out a severed tongue.

"Nice Sherlock, classy," she commented sarcastically and replaced the tongue on the plate in the microwave, "John, I would go over to Sarah's now, you don't want to cook in this kitchen!"

"But what about you, I am pretty sure that it is illegal to leave a fourteen year old on her own for the day," was the reply from the living room.

"Stop stressing! Mrs Hudson is downstairs in case the flat decides to spontaneously combust in you absence."

The silence signalled that John was pondering the fact.

"John, go on."

"I will be back after tea, don't do anything I wouldn't do," he called as he pulled on his coat and exited the flat.

"But that means no genocide," she mocked with a hand to her heart.

Thankfully, John was out of ear shot by then and Alex just happily sank back into the sofa. Oh yes, things were definitely looking up. The whole flat to herself for a possible twelve hours. She stretched her arms behind her head leisurely.

The next two hours consisted of placing sellotape under the taps, balancing flour atop the cupboard doors, putting marbles under the doormat and honey in John and Sherlock's shoes. Ah, the joys of being childish.

**Author's Note: So, the next chapter is the beginning of the Great Game :DD Super excited about that! **

**Thank yous will unfortunately have to go in the next chapter because, once again, my Mum is nagging me to switch of the laptop and go to sleep. Why can't I seem to run on two hours sleep like everybody else? I sleep for twelve hours and I wake up looking like the Walking Dead and one of my best friends has a power nap on the bus and is bouncing around like a spring lamb! How?! Anyway, I am going off on a tangent, sleep deprivation does that.**

**Please Review**

**-Abby**

**X**


	38. Chapter 38

**Disclaimer: ****I do not own Sherlock, all rights go to the BBC. I do however, own Alex.**

**Author's Note: Hey! So, here is the beginning of the Great Game! EEK! Super excited for this one!**_  
_

**Enjoy-**

_Previously:_

_Thankfully, John was out of ear shot by then and Alex just happily sank back into the sofa. Oh yes, things were definitely looking up. The whole flat to herself for a possible twelve hours. She stretched her arms behind her head leisurely. _

_The next two hours consisted of placing sellotape under the taps, balancing flour atop the cupboard doors, putting marbles under the doormat and honey in John and Sherlock's shoes. Ah, the joys of being childish._

**Minsk, Belarus-**

Sherlock sat in an uncomfortable, rigid chair, the plastic jabbing into his back. The air was heavy with frost and the only light was filtering through the windows of the prison. Behind him was a stern looking, plump police officer, complete with hat and tie, sat at his desk supervising the visit. In front, sat a jittering man clad in orange overalls.

Sherlock leant back and restrained a sigh. He had thought that the case was worth his time but as soon as he had stepped foot in the prison, he knew that it was just a simple domestic murder- nothing remotely interesting.

"Just tell me what happened, from the beginning," he ordered in a bored tone, his breath swirling from his lips in wispy puffs.

"We'd been to a bar – a nice place – and, er, I got chattin' with one of the waitresses, and Karen weren't 'appy with that, so ... when we get back to the 'otel, we end up havin' a bit of a ding-dong, don't we?" the man replied in a thick cockney accent as he drummed his fingers on the table top.

Sherlock didn't even try to hide the potent sigh that escaped him.

"She was always gettin' at me, sayin' I weren't a real man-" the man continued.

"Wasn't a real man."

The man frowned at Sherlock in confusion.

"What?"

"It's not "weren't"; it's "wasn't"," Sherlock corrected.

"Oh," the man replied, unsure of what to say.

"Go on," Sherlock told him, his attitude obviously screaming the opposite.

"Well, then I dunno how it happened," he recovered from Sherlock's correction, "but suddenly there's a knife in my hands. And, you know, me old man was a butcher, so I know how to handle knives. He learned us how to cut up a beast."

""Taught,"" Sherlock rectified automatically.

"What?"

Sherlock detected the annoyance in his client's voice but couldn't really care less as he carried on.

"_Taught_ you how to cut up a beast."

"Yeah, well, then-then I done it-"

""Did it.""

"DID IT!" the man roared, his temper finally breaking, "Stabbed her, over and over and over, and I looked down and she weren't-"

Sherlock let out an angry snort.

"_Wasn't_," the man corrected, "movin' no more."

Sherlock looked up to the ceiling in exasperation.

"_Any _more_… _You've gotta help me. I dunno how it happened, but it was an accident. I swear."

Sherlock pulled himself to his feet, causing the chair to grind across the damp concrete floor, and made to leave.

"You've gotta help me, Mr. Holmes!" the man pleaded frantically, desperate to make Sherlock stay, "Everyone says you're the best. Without you, I'll get hung for this."

Sherlock stopped and looked over his shoulder to the man.

"No, no, no, Mr Berwick, not at all," Sherlock gazed away in mock thought, "_Hanged, _yes."

Sherlock smiled at the doomed man and left him sat at the empty table.

* * *

Alex was laid on the sofa, her legs dangling lazily over the armrest as she flicked through the pages of her new book. She had picked it up from a merchant ambling around outside and didn't quite know what to make of it. The cover read, _Remedy of the Mind_ and had an odd looking doodle of a wise woman from the Middle Ages bending low over a stewing cauldron whilst being watched secretly by a witchdoctor from the bushes. Alex decided that it was worth her time and flipped to the first page.

_Too bitter was the day to be slaving over a wok, but the sick needed attention. It was springtime and their humours were all over the shot, the blood outwitting the others. It was a simple case of a leech application to the thigh or a blade to a wrist to rid them of the excess blood but-_

A loud bang interrupted Alex from her reading and her head shot up indignantly as Sherlock appeared in the doorway.

"I thought you were supposed to be in Belarus for a few days," she whined.

"I did not specify the amount of time that I would be spending there, however, did I? And why is my early return such a problem?" he arched his eyebrow questioningly as he collapsed into the armchair opposite her.

"No, there is no problem," Alex answered quickly.

In fact, she had been quite looking forward to having some good old fashioned 'me time' but 'Sherlock time' was just as good.

There was no reply from Sherlock as he sulked in his chair.

"So I am guessing that things weren't that interesting over there?"

His lack of riposte was sufficient enough.

The two lapsed into a comfortable silence as Alex turned back to her book and Sherlock continued to brood.

"Nice try with the marbles under the doormat by the way," he eventually said.

Alex gave a nod of gratitude. She knew that Sherlock wouldn't fall for that one (she had been try to catch him off guard for ten years) but she hoped that he would fall for one of her other pranks.

Sherlock stood up and swiftly left the room, returning soon after in his pyjamas and dressing gown.

"Now we match," Alex grinned, motioning to her spotty pyjamas.

Sherlock ignored her input and allowed his eyes to trace up to the wall.

"You spray painted a smiley face on the wall," he stated bluntly.

Alex looked up at him.

"Good girl."

The 'good girl' giggled and decided to abandon her book in favour of conversing with her Uncle. Well, watching her Uncle.

He walked over to the top drawer and took out a pistol. Alex already knew what was coming and placed her hands over her ears as a bullet whizzed past her head and embedded itself into the left eye of the smiley face. Alex didn't even flinch as another was shot, causing her hair to ruffle as it hit the right eye.

"Social services would be having a fit if they were here right now," Alex mentioned casually.

"They would be fine with it."

"Oh yes, because I bet they see parental figures shooting bullets inches away from their children every day," Alex said sarcastically.

"Well they have obviously not been in contact with you or they wouldn't blame me," he sneered back and sank into the armchair once more.

Alex rolled her eyes. He was going through the stages of boredom: dramatic entrance, witty greeting, collapse onto furniture, get up from furniture, get changed into sleepwear, shoot wall, get snarky, and collapse back onto furniture. All that was left now was-

"Alex, go and get me some cigarettes."

And there it was.

"Yeah, okay."

Sherlock looked over to her in surprise,

"Really?"

"No," she snorted and picked up her abandoned book.

Sherlock grumbled something about impotent teenagers under his breath and crossed his arms. There was a blissful silence until another shot rang out, this time just clipping the spine of the book that Alex had above her head.

"Hey, I just got that today!"

"And you clearly are more interested in balancing it on your head than actually reading it," Sherlock countered.

Alex sighed in resignation, it was true- the book was tedious. She threw it down once and for all and walked over to Sherlock. She picked up his pistol out of his loose grip and pointed it to the wall before pulling the trigger. The bullet veered off so far to the left that it almost put a hole in the doorframe.

"You are terrible," Sherlock stated.

"Then help me, it will give you something to do."

Sherlock conceded, seeing her point and rose to stand next to her. He picked up her arm holding the gun and raised it with his towards the smiley face. He used his other hand to push her left shoulder back so that she was stood to the side.

"Breathe in," he ordered, "And as you breathe back out, pull the trigger."

Alex sucked in a breath through her nose and curled her finger down on the trigger. It let out a loud bang as the bullet was released, causing her to jump back reflexively into Sherlock. He steadied her.

"You can't be afraid of the pistol. _You_ are in control of it and if you are scared, then you will shake and your shot will be horrible," Sherlock lectured, "Try again."

Alex composed herself and took aim at the face, her Uncle's arm still guiding hers.

"Breathe in…" he said softly, "Breathe out…"

Alex pressed down onto the catch and watched in awe as the bullet hit the smiley face. It was right on the edge and probably more Sherlock's doing than hers but she was still proud.

"Again?" she asked hopefully, but turned and saw that Sherlock had retreated back to the same bored state in the chair.

Teaching had sufficed him enough for a grand total of ten minutes. Alex tossed the pistol back to him carelessly and fell back onto the sofa herself.

A few silent minutes passed before the sound of a clatter and someone swearing sounded from the front door. At the same time, Sherlock aimed another shot on the smile of the face. The deafening bang was followed by frantic footsteps and John burst into the room with his hands protecting his eardrums.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?!" he yelled at Sherlock.

"Bored."

"What?" John squinted in disbelief.

"Bored!" Sherlock declared loudly as he sprang to his feet and poised the gun, "Bored! Bored!"

He shot the wall on each syllable.

"Alex, move!" John cried as the girl just sat there as calm as you like whilst a bullet bypassed her ear.

"Don't worry, his aim is awesome," Alex reassured.

John gave her an 'are you serious look' as he advanced towards his flatmate and snatched the pistol from his hand. He slid out the clip and tucked it away safely.

"Don't know what's got into the criminal classes. Good job I'm not one of them," Sherlock muttered.

"So you take it out on the wall," John gathered from the kitchen doorway.

"It was technically Alex's fault. She drew the smiley face and I just couldn't resist. Anyway, the wall had it coming."

"Moi?" Alex asked innocently, pointing to herself as she watched the scene unfold with a humorous smile.

Sherlock tapped her lightly on the head, indicating to her to move. She scoffed and shook her head.

"Fair enough," Sherlock murmured as he fell back onto her and laid down.

Alex struggled and moaned against the fabric of his dressing gown and managed to spit out enough of the sleepwear to yell,

"Get off, you oaf!"

Sherlock rolled sideways so that he was against the back of the sofa and used his feet to kick Alex off. She landed with a bump before dusting herself off and going to stand next to John.

"He has a boredom disease, which is apparently a brother to his little git syndrome," she glared at the back of her Uncle.

"What about that Russian case?" John asked with an amused smile at Alex's words.

"Belarus. Open and shut domestic murder. Not worth my time."

"Ah, shame," John chirped sarcastically as he made his way over to the kitchen, "Anything in? I'm starving."

He opened the fridge but immediately slammed it shut again, taking deep breaths through his nose.

"What's up?" Alex asked in concern.

John slowly opened the fridge door again, revealing a severed head, cut off at the neck.

"Sherlock, the microwave _and _the fridge? Seriously?" Alex groaned.

"It's a head," John uttered softly, "A severed head!"

"Just tea for me, thanks," Sherlock replied disinterestedly.

"No, there's a head in the fridge."

"Yes."

"A bloody head!"

"Well, where else was I supposed to put it?" Sherlock asked moodily, "You don't mind, do you?"

A snort from John indicated that he _did _mind. Alex tried to rein in her laughter.

"I got it from Bart's morgue," Sherlock continued, "I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death. I see you've written up the taxi driver case."

"Uh, yes," John replied, shooting once last incredulous look at the fridge.

Alex gasped,

"Let me see!"

She ran over and picked up John's laptop to open up his blog.

"What is it called?" she asked.

""A Study in Pink,"" Sherlock replied with distaste.

"Well, you know, pink lady, pink case, pink phone – there was a lot of pink. Did you like it?"

Sherlock pretended to contemplate the question.

"Uh, no."

"Why not? I thought you'd be flattered."

"Flattered?" Sherlock repeated, "Alex, read out the third line."

Alex scanned down to the line and read it out loud-

""Sherlock sees through everything and everyone in seconds. What's incredible, though, is how spectacularly ignorant he is about some things,"" she narrated.

"Now hang on a minute. I didn't mean that in a-" John tried to defend.

"Oh, you meant "spectacularly ignorant" in a nice way," Sherlock interrupted dryly, "Look, it doesn't matter to me who's Prime Minister-"

"I know," John muttered quietly.

"Or who's sleeping with who-"

"Or whether the Earth goes around the sun."

"Oh, not that again. It's not important."

"Not impor- It's primary school stuff. How can you not know that?" John asked in amazement at how someone so clever could be so thick.

"Well, if I ever did, I've deleted it," Sherlock mumbled as he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes tiredly.

""Deleted it"?"

"Oh here we go," Alex soliloquized.

"Listen," Sherlock sat up to face John, "This is my hard drive, and it only makes sense to put things in there that are useful ... really useful. Ordinary people fill their heads with all kinds of rubbish, and that makes it hard to get at the stuff that matters. Do you see?"

John pressed his lips together to swallow the retort but he couldn't contain it,

"But it is the _solar system_!"

Sherlock groaned and smothered his face in his hands,

"Oh, hell! What does that matter?! So we go round the Sun! If we went round the Moon, or round and round the garden like a teddy bear, it wouldn't make any difference. All that matters to me is the work. Without that, my brain rots. Put that in your blog. Or better still; stop inflicting your opinions on the world."

And with that Sherlock, dived to face the back of the sofa and curled up into a tight ball, his whole body radiating petulance. Alex scowled at him for insulting John and threw a particularly sharp pencil at his back- to which he did not react.

John patted Alex's head whilst throwing on his coat and heading to the door.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked over his shoulder.

"Out. I need some air," John replied tightly and bypassed Mrs Hudson on the stairs.

The elderly lady smiled briefly at him and entered the living room.

"Ooh-ooh!" she called in her signature greeting as she knocked.

Sherlock lifted his head enough to acknowledge her existence before burrowing back into the pillows. Alex waved at the lady.

"Have you two had a little domestic?" she asked knowingly, "You two shouldn't fight in front of Alex, you know. It isn't good for children to see their parents arguing."

Alex hid her grin behind her hand. Sherlock ignored the comment and just stepped over the coffee table to stand at the window and watch John leave.

"Ooh, it's a bit nippy out there. He should have wrapped himself up a bit more," Mrs Hudson fretted, referring to John.

"Look at that, Mrs Hudson, Alex. Quiet, calm, peaceful," he grimaced, "Isn't it hateful?"

"Oh, I'm sure something'll turn up, Sherlock. A nice murder – that'll cheer you up."

"Or a good slap in the mouth, might turn your scowl upside down," Alex added, still irked at him for upsetting John.

Mrs Hudson had just turned to leave when she finally spotted the wall.

"Hey. What've you done to my bloody wall?! I'm putting this on your rent, young man!" she announced angrily and proceeded down the stairs.

Sherlock and Alex looked to each other; Alex reluctantly returned her Uncle's grin.

"She still thinks-"

An ear-splitting boom cut off her sentence, as the windows of 221B splintered and both Alex and Sherlock were projected forward by the blast.

**This seemed like an appropriate place to end. I hope that was okay :)**

**Thank you to:**

**HPSPNDW1101**

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**SUPER MEGA AMAZING MASSIVE THANK YOU TO:**

**emilybrock101- Hey! Thanks so much for yet again another lovely review :D Somewhere in the next few chapters will see the girls getting what they deserve. Both Sherlock and Alex will be playing the game but there is a small twist that has already been hinted at to do with Alex. I cannot wait to write Alex with Irene but I don't know whether or not that Alex should like her, help! Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter! x**

**rycbar15- Hey! Okay, this is seriously freaking _me _out as well as you. I am basically writing down your family... *applies tinfoil hat* Anyway! I really liked writing April, she reminds me a lot of my niece (excluding the whole alcohol situation). Hope you enjoyed this chapter! x**

**Rose Tomlinson- Hello! Doll-free chapters are always good, haha. Hope you liked this yet again doll-free chapter! x**

**loveinfinity- Hey! Yeah, Laura will have a proper funeral. I would feel really mean if I didn't let her have that! Eventually, I think that they _might _find out but it isn't exactly a problem at the moment. She literally only has a drop every few weeks so there would be nothing to suggest the fact that they would be suspicious. But then again, they are Holmeses and John would understand with his sister and all... Anyway, thanks for the review and I hope that you liked this chapter! x**

**GottaLoveTen- Yo! Goat phase? Really? HAHA! No problem out the pm-ing, I meant what I said about you both :) I don't listen to my Chemical Romance but I know a lot of people that do, do you? Anyway, hope you liked this chapter :) x**

**E.I Cochrane- Hey! Thanks again for the reviews :) your story is epic! re would have reviewed but my phone wasn't having any of it, I will in the morning when I have my laptop :) I hope you liked this chapter! X**

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**Kells-Bells34- Hey! Thanks for your great review! I couldn't help but reference lestrawberries again. I hope that this chapter lived up to your expectations :D x**

**fmxc17- Hey! Thanks for the great review! I am glad to know that I am in the same boat as other people haha. I hope you liked this chapter :) x**

**jokerharley1980- Hey! Yeah, I always pictured John as the kind of person who would be good with kids/teenagers. Thanks for the lovely review and I hope that you liked this chapter x**

**Revella- Hey! Thanks of or the constant support and brilliant reviews! You always make me smile :) I hope that you liked this chapter! X**

**Thanks again to all of you! I won't be able to update probably until Monday because I am heading off down South for the weekend with Emmy (if you have read my profile, you will know who that is). I also need to know what your opinions are on whether or not Alex should like Irene/ how she would react. Scandal in Belgravia is coming soon and I need to plan ahead so if you could review your opinions on the matter because I am a bit stuck.**

**Please Review**

**-Abby**

**X**


	39. Chapter 39

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or anything related to it. All rights go to the BBC. I do own Alex though :)**

**Author's Note: Hey, I'm back. Emmy and I arrived back today and we had an awesome weekend! Here is the next instalment of the Great Game, which I had a lot of fun writing! **

**Enjoy:**

_Previously-_

_"Or a good slap in the mouth, might turn your scowl upside down," Alex taunted, still irked at him for upsetting John._

_Mrs Hudson had just turned to leave when she finally spotted the wall._

_"Hey. What've you done to my bloody wall?! I'm putting this on your rent, young man!" she announced angrily and proceeded down the stairs._

_Sherlock and Alex looked to each other; Alex reluctantly returned her Uncle's grin. _

_"She still thinks-"_

_An ear-splitting boom cut off her sentence, as the windows of 221B splintered and both Alex and Sherlock were projected forward by the blast._

Alex's head was spinning. She groaned and attempted to pull herself up from the floor, when she found that she was wedged beneath the wooden window frame that had been hurled forward from the explosion. She let out a low whine and tried to look around for Sherlock, but her vision was blocked by the fabric of the upturned sofa.

"Alex!" she heard her Uncle shout.

"Here."

There was a rummaging of debris as Sherlock appeared in front of her.

"Are you okay?" he asked quickly.

Alex nodded her head and motioned to the plank weighing her down. Sherlock immediately took the hint and lifted the weight up effortlessly, allowing Alex to scramble out from underneath it. As soon as she stood upright she attached herself to Sherlock's side. His hand automatically went to her back in a reassuring manner.

"What the hell was that?" she asked shakily.

"Probably a gas leak or something similar: nothing to worry about now."

Alex nodded and broke away. She looked around the paper strewn and chaotic room.

"You take the left side and I take the right side?" she suggested, staring forlornly down at the mess (or rather, the effort that she was going to have to go to to clean it up.)

Sherlock sighed and nodded.

* * *

John stretched with a grimace and groaned as he bent down to tie his shoelace the next morning, having stayed the night at Sarah's on the sofa. Just as he was finished fiddling with his shoe, Sarah entered the room wearing a satin, baby blue dressing gown.

"Morning!" she chirped.

"Oh, mor-" he was cut off as he turned around due to his aching neck flaring up in pain, "Morning."

"See? Told you that you should've gone with the lilo."

"No, no, no, it's fine. I-I slept fine. It's very kind of you."

Sarah rummaged around behind him as he thanked her and managed to spot what she was looking for. She reached down behind his back and produced the television remote. John smiled at her somewhat sheepishly for lying on her remote controller.

"Well, maybe next time I'll let you kip at the end of my bed, you know," she mentioned suggestively as she perched on the armrest.

"What about the time after that?"

Sarah looked to him and grinned briefly before turning back to the screen.

"So, do you want some breakfast?" she asked as she threw the remote back down onto the sofa.

"Love some."

"Yeah, well you'd better make it yourself, 'cause I'm gonna have a shower," she smirked and stalked off to the bathroom.

John chortled silently to himself at his girlfriend's sassiness and continued to do up his buttons on his shirt, all the while listening to the news half-heartedly. It wasn't until it reached the main story that he properly listened.

_"There's been a massive explosion in central London-"_

John perked up from his shirt and his face flooded with horror as the screen filled with the scene of the rubble filled street and police officers cornering off John's home.

_"As yet, there are no reports of any casualties, and the police are unable to say if there is any suspicion of terrorist involvement."_

John jumped to his feet like lightening and swung his coat around his shoulders as he advanced towards the front door.

"Sarah! Sarah! I have got to run!" he called and did just that.

* * *

Five painstakingly long minutes later, John's taxi pulled up at Baker Street and he dived out, almost forgetting to pay. He rounded the corner and almost stopped in shock. A crowd of gawking onlookers nosed around in a preying circle next to a fire engine and John weaved his way through them.

"Excuse me, can I get through? Excuse me," he muttered to the horde of people as he pushed past them.

He approached a bald police officer trying to contain the crowd.

"Can I go through?" he asked, pointing to 221B.

The policeman nodded and John got further forward to assess the damage. He avoided the bricks and shrapnel that coated the floor and had to hop over numerous red fire hoses that trailed along the road waiting to be rolled back up and tucked away. John stared up in shock at the house opposite 221B that had borne the brunt of the explosion. The whole two floors had been completely demolished, the charcoaled rooms exposed to the air.

John's jaw dropped as he turned and jogged up towards his home. He was immediately pursued and stopped by a police officer.

"I live over there," John explained.

The intercepting hand withdrew and John advanced up the stairs to the flat.

"Sherlock! Alex!" he called from the doorway.

He entered the room to see Sherlock sat in his armchair, glaring daggers at the other chair. John walked in further and saw the reason behind the glaring. Mycroft sat in the opposite chair, Alex perched on the armrest next to him.

"John," Sherlock greeted as he plucked at his violin.

Alex waved and Mycroft merely glanced at the new arrival.

"I saw it on the telly. Are you two okay?" John asked.

"Hmm? What? Oh, yeah. Fine. Gas leak, apparently."

"I got pinned down by a falling window!" Alex exclaimed theatrically.

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"You were trapped by a piece of the frame, drama queen," Sherlock then turned to his brother, "We can't."

""Can't"?" Mycroft reiterated with a raised eyebrow.

"The stuff I've got on is just too big. I can't spare the time."

Both Alex and John looked to him in disbelief. What was this apparent 'big case'?

"Never mind your usual trivia. This is of national importance."

"How's the diet?" Sherlock asked innocently, the implied insult clear in his voice.

"_Fine. _Your turn Alex."

Alex looked at Sherlock warily, trying to read what he was playing at; she didn't want to give his game away.

"Well… the case that we have on now… is important to us so I am with Sherlock on this one," she said slowly as she formulated her words carefully, "Anyway, I don't want to go hunting for some stupid files when there is a delightfully interesting case on right now."

Mycroft sighed and turned to John as Sherlock gave Alex a subtle wink.

"Fine. Perhaps _you_ can get through to him, John."

John spun around as his name was mentioned from where he was tracing the damaged window with his finger.

"What?"

"I'm afraid my brother can be very intransigent."

Alex swatted her Uncle on the chest. She wished that they would just get along!

"If you're so keen, why don't_ you_ investigate it?" Sherlock snipped as he leant back further in the chair.

"No-no-no-no-no. I can't possibly be away from the office for any length of time – not with the Korean elections so-" he deliberately stopped himself and paused for effect as all heads rose to him, "Well, you don't need to know about that, do you?"

"Besides, a case like this – it requires…" Mycroft's face distorted in displeasure, "legwork."

Sherlock's finger slipped off the string, making a terrible twanging sound.

"How's Sarah, John? How was the lilo?"

"Sofa, Sherlock. It was the sofa," Mycroft corrected superiorly as he checked his silver pocket watch.

Sherlock looked John up and down.

"Oh yes, of course."

"_How_," John began but dropped it at the slight shake of Alex's head.

Having them both explain themselves would probably have more dire consequences than world war three.

John sat down on the coffee table.

"Sherlock's business seems to be booming since you and he became ... pals."

Sherlock sent his brother a dark look, causing Alex to send him a warning one. She had been playing mediator between the two since she could talk.

"What's he like to live with? Hellish, I imagine," Mycroft continued to John.

"I'm never bored."

"Good! That's good, isn't it?" Mycroft condescended and Alex just gave up trying to keep the peace. There was no point when insults were flying around faster than planes at Heathrow.

Mycroft brought himself to his feet as Sherlock plucked up his bow and whipped one end through the air in front of him like a jousting stick. Picking up a folder which he had put on the table beside him, Mycroft stepped forward and offered the folder to his brother but Sherlock just looked back at him stubbornly like a child refusing to go to the supermarket with his mother. Grimacing and poking his tongue into the corner of his mouth, Mycroft turned and (as he knew that he would eventually have to) offered the folder to John instead.

"Andrew West, known as Westie to his friends," Mycroft began, looking directly at John.

John himself seemed quite flustered that the case seemed to have been handed to him but took the folder nonetheless.

"A civil servant, found dead on the tracks at Battersea Station this morning with his head smashed in."

"Jumped in front of a train?" John assumed.

"Seems the logical assumption," Mycroft nodded.

"But ...?" John prompted, his lips quirking up into a smile.

""But"?"

"Well, you wouldn't be here if it was just an accident."

Sherlock snorted in amusement and Alex had a hard time keeping the grin off her face. It wouldn't do for Uncle Mycroft to berate her for becoming a mini Sherlock. Again.

Mycroft now stepped back, addressing the room instead of just John and Alex found herself resting her elbows on her knees and listening raptly, her Uncle always had a voice that made you interested in what he was saying. It had been the same since Alex was a young girl and he read her bedtime stories.

"The M.O.D. is working on a new missile defence system – the Bruce-Partington Programme, it's called. The plans for it were on a memory stick."

"That wasn't very clever," John commented.

Sherlock smirked in agreement along with Alex. She couldn't help but love John's witty remarks.

"It's not the only copy," Mycroft said.

"Oh."

"But it _is_ secret. And missing."

"Top secret?"

"Very. We think West must have taken the memory stick. We can't possibly risk it falling into the wrong hands. You've got to find those plans, Sherlock. Don't make me order you."

Sherlock breathed in heavily and positioned his violin snugly on his shoulder.

"I'd like to see you try," he said calmly, obviously egging his brother on.

Alex felt it her time to intervene.

"Alright, you two. Enough is enough. Sherlock would be utterly delighted to take the case of the missing Bruce Partington Plans and the smashed in M.O.D, Westie was it? Oh don't look so dubious! If it was not for the case that we have on now, we would jump at the chance but since we are otherwise engaged, it would seem that we will have to politely decline your offer. Good day, Uncle and I hope that you have a safe journey home," there was no doubt of the message underlying in her words.

Mycroft bristled at his niece's words but took heed. Not before leaning close to Sherlock's face and saying,

"Think it over."

He then walked over to John (who was gawping at Alex) and shook his hand.

"Goodbye, John. See you very soon."

Finally, after a brief kiss on the top of Alex's head, he left. Only when she heard the slam of the door, did Alex feel safe to say,

"Bloody hell, did I just say all of that?"

"It sounded like you swallowed a dictionary," John commented before turning to Sherlock, "And you, why'd you lie?"

Sherlock looked over innocently, apparently 'ignorant' towards his earlier actions.

"You have got nothing on – not a single case. That's why the wall took a pounding. Why did you tell your brother you were busy?" John elaborated at Sherlock's annoying blank look.

"Why shouldn't I?" he shrugged.

"Sibling rivalry. Now we're getting somewhere."

Sherlock's mouth opened, no doubt to spout some indignant denial, but was cut off by Alex.

"This is what I have had to put up with since I can remember, John. They used to compete for my affection and were both convinced that _they _were the favourite Uncle. I remember very distinctly a certain trip to _Toys 'R' Us _when I was four," she looked pointedly at Sherlock, "You both nearly had to take out a mortgage to pay for the stuff that you bought me!" Alex exclaimed, "And I told you that I wouldn't play with it but Mycroft had just gotten me that rocking horse and you were determined to buy me that creepy talking mirror."

"You liked it in the end!" Sherlock defended.

"Only when you came around. As soon as you left, I burst into tears and had to run to the kitchen while Mum put it back in the loft!"

"I am still the favourite, though."

Alex sighed, "And how did you figure that one out?"

"Well you do live with me and spend every single hour with me," Sherlock said with a smug smile.

"Hey, whoever I live with doesn't mean that I love them anymore. The same thing happened when I lived with Uncle Mycroft. The only reason that I am here not there, is because you have more time on your hands to look after me so Uncle Mycroft doesn't feel so guilty. Anyway, I sat with Uncle Mycroft just now and not you. By your logic, does that mean that I suddenly have a vendetta against you and have joined a club with Uncle Mycroft to lynch you?" Alex mocked, causing John to chuckle.

"Shut up."

Alex grinned and slid onto the sofa smugly. Alex 1- Sherlock 0

There was a moment of silence before Sherlock's phone began to ring. He fished around in his inside blazer pocket and took the mobile out. He tapped _accept call_ and a beep sounded as he was put through to the caller.

"Sherlock Holmes."

Alex leant forward and strained her ears to try and hear who was on the phone but Sherlock had it pressed to closely to his head. Instead, she took to reading her Uncle's features. She wasn't disappointed.

Sherlock's face immediately brightened up and a gleeful twinkle in his eye could only mean one thing- case.

"Of course. How could I refuse?"

That was all the evidence Alex needed as she wormed her feet into her too-small-but-can't-be-bothered-to-change-them-because-they-look-nice-and-I-am-chronically-lazy shoes. John sent her a questioning look, to which she just motioned for him to listen to Sherlock.

Sherlock ended the call and stored his phone away inside his blazer pocket as he spun on his heel and deposited the violin in the chair while buttoning up his jacket.

"Lestrade. I've been summoned. Coming?" he asked as he headed for the door.

"If you want me to."

"Of course," he said as he picked up his coat and allowed Alex to go down the stairs before him, "I would be lost without my blogger."

Alex turned to him with an affronted look on her face.

"Or you," Sherlock muttered and cuffed her lightly over the back of her head to make her keep moving.

**Author's Note- So there we go. I don't really have much to say in this note. Um, the next chapter should be up tomorrow hopefully and I hope that you all liked it :)**

**Thank you to:**

**simplemusings12**

**Fiihox**

**Lilia Malfoy**

**to following/favouriting**

**SUPER SPECIAL MEGA ENORMOUS THANK YOU TO:**

**Rose Tomlinson- Hey! Thanks as usual for reviewing :) Sorry about the slow update, things got a little bit tough with my family and such but everything is back on track now and I am back to updating every day or so :) I hope that you enjoyed this chapter! x**

**emilybrock101- Hello! Thanks as usual for the awesome reviews :D and thank you for the advice on the whole Irene situation. I think that she would definitely be caught off guard and I quite like your idea about them being friends, it could be quite beneficial for Alex to have someone like The Woman as her friend. Anyway thanks as always and I hope that you liked this chapter x**

**loveinfinity- Hi! Haha, yeah, everybody was okay, Alex just made her little situation seem like she was crushed by a falling house when retelling it to John haha. Thanks so much for reviewing and I hope that you liked this chapter x**

**Xin0Lan- Hey! Thanks as always for the lovely review (I do say that a lot don't I? Well, it is true) I love John, I think he is so tolerant with Sherlock but also has a temper about him. As for the wall, it knew what it was getting itself into when Sherlock came knocking didn't it? Thanks so much for the advice with Irene. It seems that the general feel is for Alex to get along with Irene but be a little off guard at some sections, especially with her age. I agree completely with the whole keeping their differences thing because I think that also Alex may feel a little protective of Sherlock. Anyway, thanks for the review and the advice and I hope that you liked this chapter :) x**

**simplemusings12- Hey! Yey! I love it when new people read, it is the best feeling ever! I really like writing the Alex and John scenes so it is a good job that they read well haha. No Logan for a while unfortunately with him being in Cornwall and all but texts come to mind I think :) Thanks so much for the review and I hope that you continue to like and read this story! x**

**jokerharley1980- Hello! Yeah, the Great Game has to be one of my favourites too. It is just so clever and funny and scary and oh I just love it! It is an absolute joy to write so I am glad that you like it! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter x**

**GottaLoveTen- Yo! No, I have never really listened to them. I really love Evanescence though which my friend tells me is quite similar-ish, but they might just be winding me up haha. I don't really know about the whole solar system debate. I agree-ish that it is kind of pointless to know unless you work with it but... I don't know haha. See you later! x  
**

**rycbar15- Hey! Thanks as always for the fantastic reviews that always make me smile! Ooh, I sense a challenge... if I get your next sibling, I will change my name to Mystic-Meg. On a serious note, thanks so much for the support that you always give me, it makes the effort worthwhile and to be honest, when I am not hammering away at a keyboard, I don't feel like me haha! Anyway, thanks again and I hope that you liked this chapter :) x**

**fmxc17- Helloo! I know, I love the Great Game too! It has to be in the top three of my favourite episodes, definitely. With regards to Irene, I see your point about her not liking her and I think that if I do decide that they will get along, she will certainly have her reservations (probably about the whole Sherlock fancying kind of thing and the ending) Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter x**

**Fiihox- Hello! I love it when people read this for the first time because I know how I feel when I read a fanfic the first time around :) Thanks so much for the great review and I hope that you liked this chapter and continue to stick with the story :D x**

**Sapphire lota- Hey! Thanks for the awesome review! It isn't that hard to make the three way conversations, Alex seems to slot in well (in writing terms anyway and I hope reading terms haha) I hope that you liked this chapter and thanks again! x**

**DonnaWatson- Hey, my messages are being really stupid but I should be able to get onto my phone tomorrow to pm you then with regards to all of your awesome reviews!**

**Phew, so all thanks yous done :) I love you all and I will see you tomorrow or Tuesday :)**

**Please Review**

**-Abby**

**X**


	40. Chapter 40

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any thing related to it. All rights go to the BBC. I do own Alex.**

**Author's Note: Hello again! A little bit of a shorter chapter but I wasn't able to write too much because of my whirlwind of a niece and her surprise visits haha. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it-**

_Previously:_

_That was all the evidence Alex needed as she wormed her feet into her too-small-but-can't-be-bothered-to-change-them-because-they-look-nice-and-I-am-chronically-lazy shoes. John sent her a questioning look, to which she just motioned for him to listen to Sherlock._

_Sherlock ended the call and stored his phone away inside his blazer pocket as he spun on his heel and deposited the violin in the chair while buttoning up his jacket._

_"Lestrade. I've been summoned. Coming?" he asked as he headed for the door._

_"If you want me to."_

_"Of course," he said as he picked up his coat and allowed Alex to go down the stairs before him, "I would be lost without my blogger."_

_Alex turned to him with an affronted look on her face._

_"Or you," Sherlock muttered and cuffed her lightly over the back of her head to make her keep moving._

Alex moaned and almost smashed her head against the wall as John tried for the fifth time to tell the woman behind the desk who they were.

"Look, I have already told you: my name is John Watson, this is Alessandra Holmes and her Uncle is- wait, Alex, where is your Uncle?"

Alex pointed to the double doors that led through into the offices of Scotland Yard.

"Urgh, why does he always bugger off and leave us to deal with the paperwork?" he groaned.

Alex shrugged and stood up on her tiptoes to the desk. She produced a lanyard that she kept at an angle so that John couldn't read it and showed it to the receptionist. She immediately paled.

"Go on through Miss Holmes. Don't worry about the administration, I will see to that," she fumbled.

Alex nodded her head and took John by the arm to follow her Uncle.

"How the bloody hell did you do that?" John asked in amazement.

The girl plucked out the lanyard from its hiding place in her jumper and grinned as John read it-

_Ultimate clearance…_

_British Intelligence…_

_Her Majesty's Diplomatic Service…_

"Uncle Mycroft needs to keep a closer eye on his employers. It says that I am part of a new programme and they needed someone who wouldn't attract attention. A teenager would be perfect for the role and with my name being Holmes..." Alex laughed and stored the cord away once more before catching up to Sherlock, an incredulous John following in her wake.

"Hey Lestrade," Alex greeted with a smile that was mirrored by him.

"Hello Alex."

"Can we skip the pleasantries please and get straight to the facts, it is horribly dull," Sherlock interrupted, glaring at a phone for ringing- how dare it interrupt him!

Lestrade rolled his eyes but turned and motioned for the trio to follow him into his office.

"You like the funny cases, don't you? The surprising ones."

"Obviously."

"Well you are going to _love_ this. That explosion-"

"Gas leak yes?"

"No."

"No?" both Alex and Sherlock frowned at the same time.

"No. Made to _look_ like one," Lestrade informed them.

"What?" John asked, just as confused as the others.

Why would someone want to blow up their flat on purpose? Well, the Holmeses did have a lot of enemies…

"Hardly anything left of the place except a strong box – a very strong box and inside it was this," the inspector gestured to a white envelope that lay on his desk.

Alex peered over to it and felt a clenching in her stomach; she didn't like this one bit.

"You haven't opened it?" Sherlock questioned without taking his eyes off the envelope.

"It's addressed to you, isn't it? We've X-rayed it. It's not booby-trapped."

"How reassuring," Sherlock muttered sarcastically as he bent down to pick up the envelope from the desk.

Alex resisted the urge to run over and slap it out of his hands as he walked over to the desk light in the corner of the room and held it under for inspection. His eyes raked over the fancy handwriting that painted,

_Sherlock Holmes_

across the middle.

"Nice stationery," he commented, "Bohemian."

"What?" Alex asked as she snapped back from her glaring at the envelope.

"From the Czech Republic," her Uncle replied before turning to Lestrade, "No fingerprints?"

"No."

"She used a fountain pen. A Parker Duofold – iridium nib."

""She"?"

"Obviously."

"Obviously," the refrained sigh distinct in John's tiresome voice.

"Alex grab me that letter opener," Sherlock ordered, his eyes still fixed on the object in his gloved hands.

Alex picked up the blade from atop the filing cabinet and handed it to her Uncle. He gently sawed in tiny strokes across the paper, carefully slitting it open. He prised open the gap and Alex watched as his mouth opened slightly in surprise. It took quite something to surprise Sherlock.

"What is it?" she asked seriously.

Her Uncle didn't answer, just reached in and retrieved a pink iPhone.

"But that's – that's the phone, the pink phone," John said in disbelief.

"What, from the Study in Pink?" Lestrade asked and Alex cringed.

Uh-oh.

"Well, obviously it's not the same phone but it's supposed to look like-" he suddenly stopped as he realised what Lestrade had just said, "The Study in Pink? You read his blog?"

"'Course I read his blog! We all do. D'you really not know that the Earth goes round the Sun?"

Alex shook her head and motioned for him to shut up but he didn't see her. Sally Donovan took that opportunity to snort and snigger at Sherlock's expense before leaving the office with files in her hand. Alex shook her head, that Donovan wasn't getting away with that and Alex followed her out.

"I don't know what you are laughing about Donovan, you are the first person to come running to us when your little detectives can't figure out the nasty crimes. Maybe you should stick to the Primary School," Alex mocked, ignoring John's warning glare through the doorway.

"You are the child around here, freak. You shouldn't be allowed anywhere near here anyway."

Alex tensed at the word _freak _but was determined not to let it show as she ploughed on.

"_You_ shouldn't be allowed anywhere near civilisation. People like you are the reason behind so much misery and you don't even know it, or perhaps you enjoy causing people pain," Alex snarled.

"Oh don't pretend to be all smart just because your second name is Holmes. You are just a wannabe," Donovan scoffed.

"My second name is Maybelline actually so get your facts straight."

"Aw, isn't that cute. Got Mummy's name eh? I bet she was just as much of a freak as you and your Uncle are," Donovan sneered.

Alex felt rage bubble in her stomach and surge up into her throat. But she pushed it down. It wouldn't do to make a scene.

"Whatever you want to think Sally."

Alex turned and regressed back into Lestrade's office, leaving a disappointed Donavon stood behind. Alex felt John's eyes on her but ignore him and focussed on Sherlock (who hadn't even noticed that she had left, he was so wrapped up in the case).

"It isn't the same phone. This one's brand new," he continued as he pressed his face closer to examine the surface, "Someone's gone to a lot of trouble to make it _look_ like the same phone, which means your blog has a far wider readership."

He shot John a filthy look as he said this and tapped the phone.

"_You have one new message," _a mechanical voice droned.

There was a series of four short pips and one long pip emitted from the mobile device. Alex tried to push away Donovan's words and concentrate. What could that possibly mean?

"Is that it?" John asked.

"No. That's _not_ it."

There was a whooshing sound indicating a text alert and Sherlock brought up on the screen a photograph of an empty room with a fireplace set at the back, clearly not lived in.

"What the hell are we supposed to make of that? An estate agent's photo and the bloody Greenwich pips!" Lestrade exclaimed.

"It's a warning…" Sherlock mumbled as he gazed at the wall thoughtfully, his eyes darting from side to side as the cogs in his mind turned.

"A warning?"

"Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips, things like that. Five pips. They're warning us it's gonna happen again…" he brandished the phone and shook it as he turned to exit the room, "And I have seen this place before."

"H-hang on. What's gonna happen again?" Alex asked as she followed Sherlock out.

Her Uncle (never to miss an opportunity to be dramatic) raised his hands and bellowed,

"_BOOM!"_

Lestrade and John scrambled to get their coats and jogged to catch up to the detective but Alex hung back for a moment and looked over at Donovan. The woman was sat at her desk, talking animatedly on the telephone that lay on her desk and scribbling down notes. Alex bit her lip. Surely Sally couldn't be right, could she? Alex knew that her family wasn't exactly the face of normal but… they weren't _freaks_. And her Mum definitely wasn't a freak; she was the best mother that anyone could have hoped for.

_'But if she was that brilliant, why did she kill herself in front of you?' _a wicked voice sneered inside her mind.

Alex hated that voice. That was the voice that always seemed to ruin everything. It was that voice that told her to run away when she thought that Sherlock was dead. It was that voice that told her that Sherlock and Mycroft didn't actually love her. It was _that _voice that was becoming more and more frequent… and that meant that something big was coming, something that would rock Alex's world to its foundations and she was sure that it had something to do with a certain man who kept cropping up at every turn-

"Alex! Are you coming or not? If you are not down these stairs in ten seconds, we are going without you!" Sherlock warned from the reception doorway.

Alex shook her head to clear her thoughts and picked up her knees to get down to Sherlock. She sandwiched herself between him and John and suddenly felt very safe. Whatever hell that _the voice_ was talking about, she knew that she wouldn't be facing it alone and she was beside two of the greatest men that she could ever had hoped for.

**Author's Note: Hey! Thanks for reading. At the end there, I wanted to get in how dependant and reliant Alex is on both Sherlock _and _John and how she is still affected by what happened with her Mother.**

**Thank you to:**

**JDawg23**

**speechless mute**

**for following/favouriting!**

**Huge thank you to:**

**E.I Cochrane- Hey! Thanks again for reviewing you wonderful human :) At least you didn't have to wait very long for this one ahah. I hope that you liked it! x**

**rycbar15- Helloo! Okay, girls name... I am thinking Emily... or... Katie... I will continue to try *fades mysteriously into the background* Anyway, thanks again for another brilliant review and I hope that you liked this chapter :) x**

**emilybrock101- Hello! Sorry again for the confusion with the last chapter, I cursed my computer so much after, that I think I would have made Satan blush haha. I am back on my laptop now so if it happens again it may end up a collection of pieces all over the my garden path... I hope that you liked this chapter and I really hope that I don't have to sacrifice my laptop to the hounds :) x**

**DonnaWatson- Yoo! It seems like both of our phones are playing up. Mine won't let me reply to emails or sent emails at all and it has decided to delete all of my music -_-... Anyway, I listen to Evanescence quite a lot but it is strange because I don't usually go for that kind of music. Then again, I love songs that have a deep meaning and Evanescence sees to that haha. And by the way 'Scottish weeping spider potato'... that has to be one of the best sentences that I have ever read in my life, certainly the most random haha. I hope that you like the next chapter :) x**

**Dark Side of the Bright Side- Helloo! Haha, only time will tell... Thanks for the great review and I hope that you have a nice day and I hope that you enjoyed this chapter :) x**

**jokerharley1980- Hey! Thanks for the awesome review :D Sherlock and Mycroft can quarrel like no other ahah. I can't wait to write Alex and Mary, I think that they will like each other because Mary is such a likeable character and Alex will want to make sure that John is happy :) I hope that you enjoyed this chapter x**

**loveinfinity- Hiya! Yup, John and Alex can whip Mycroft and Sherlock into shape haha. I love John so much- he always seems to get the brunt though, sleeping on the couch, being abducted, mourning his friend for two years, finding out he's alive and the list goes on haha. Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter and thank you for reviewing! x**

**Rose Tomlinson- Hey! Haha, your review is fantastic! It seems that the general idea is that Moriarty is Alex's father, only time will tell... haha. Everything is okay with my family now thanks, the funeral is over with so it is all uphill from here :) Writing is a great outlet so I am very lucky really. Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter and thanks for a great review! :D x**

**fmxc17- Hello! The Toys R Us thing was extremely fun to write, it just took me a while to think of a creepy toy that was appropriate haha. This episode is one of my favourites so I am just as pumped to write it :D eek! Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are just geniuses! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter :) x**

**So, a lot of wonderings about Moriarty being Alex father eh? ... Well all I can say is the father will be revealed after A Scandal in Belgravia :) **

**Thanks again to all of my fantastic readers!**

**Please Review**

**-Abby**

**X**


	41. Chapter 41

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or anything related to the show. All rights go to the BBC. I do own Alex.**

**Author's Note: Hello! Here is the next chapter of the Great Game, with a little twist at the end ;)...**

**Enjoy:**_  
_

_Previously: _

_"Alex! Are you coming or not? If you are not down these stairs in ten seconds, we are going without you!" Sherlock warned from the reception doorway. _

_Alex shook her head to clear her thoughts and picked up her knees to get down to Sherlock. She sandwiched herself between him and John and suddenly felt very safe. Whatever hell that the voice was talking about, she knew that she wouldn't be facing it alone and she was beside two of the greatest men that she had ever had the pleasure of coming across. _

The taxi pulled up and mounted the curb outside 221B, allowing Sherlock, John, Lestrade and Alex to climb out and enter the flat. Instead of going upstairs to their flat however, Sherlock led the way down to 221C instead down in the basement. Sherlock went straight over to the worn looking padlock hanging from the door and turned it over and over in his hands.

"MRS HUDSON!" Sherlock yelled, causing Alex to flinch at his loudness.

The old woman came bustling out of 221A.

"What can I help you with, dear? Is it one of your little cases?" she asked pleasantly.

"I need you to get me the key for 221C immediately."

The woman nodded and retreated back to her flat.

"So what do you think is in here? The bomber?" Alex asked.

"No. He wouldn't give himself away like that. Someone who is going to such extremes and putting so much effort in wouldn't just let themselves be found," Sherlock told her.

By this time, Mrs Hudson had returned with a bunch of jangling keys in her hand. Sherlock took the appropriate key and slotted it in to unlock the door.

"You had a look, didn't you, Sherlock, when you first came to see about your flat and when Alex was at Mycroft's home," Mrs Hudson said.

"The door's been opened recently…"

"No, can't be, that is the only key."

"And where do you keep the key?" Alex asked suddenly.

"By my bedside," Mrs Hudson replied.

Alex felt physically sick and her hate for the bomber tripled. No-one came near her grandmother.

Sherlock managed to twist off the padlock and unlocked the door with another key.

"I can't get anyone interested in this flat. It's the damp, I expect. That's the curse of basements," the door opened and the four went in, "I had a place once when I was first married. Black mould all up the walls…" she was cut off by the door shutting in her face.

It opened again just a crack and Alex kissed Mrs Hudson on the cheek.

"Thanks," she smiled.

The elderly woman gave returned her smile and patted Alex on the head before turning back to go to 221A, muttering about how lucky she was to have such a lovely granddaughter figure. Alex closed the door quietly and stepped back into the room. She started however, when she saw what was on the floor.

"Shoes," John pointed out (very helpfully).

Indeed, a pair of trainers were placed neatly in the middle of the floor, their toes pointed towards the door in the empty room. The wallpaper was peeling like the skin of an onion and only an eerie looking mirror stood in the corner of the room.

Sherlock began to walk towards the shoes, but was stopped by John and Alex's hands on his arms.

"He is a bomber remember," John cautioned.

Sherlock weaved out of the grasp and slowly walked over to the shoes, his long coat wafting dramatically.

"Be careful, Sherlock," Alex mumbled as she felt Lestrade's arm pull her ever so slightly behind him, as if his body alone would protect her from a bomb. Ah well, it was the thought that counted.

Sherlock crouched down to the footwear and just as his face got close up to them; a phone rang, causing everyone to jump and their hearts to race. Sherlock straightened up, took off his gloves and retrieved the pink ringing iPhone from his pocket. He paused momentarily as he gazed at the Caller ID.

_Blocked_

Alex looked to her Uncle warily as he tapped the phone onto loudspeaker and accepted the call.

"Hello?" he asked softly.

"H-hello ... sexy," a tearful female voice answered.

Alex frowned, what the hell…

"Who's this?" Sherlock demanded.

"I've ... sent you ... a little puzzle ... just to say hi."

"Who's talking? Why are you crying?"

"I-I'm not ... crying ... I'm typing ..." the woman sobbed in terror, "and this ... stupid ... bitch ... is reading it out."

Sherlock's head rose in recognition, his features echoing deep thought.

"The curtain rises…" he breathed.

Alex felt a sinking feeling inside of her. Her suspicions had been right.

"What?" John asked, oblivious to the bombshell that was about to fall.

"Nothing."

"No, what did you mean?"

"I've been expecting this for some time… and I think so have you," Sherlock turned his gaze to Alex.

She kept her head bowed submissively.

"Twelve hours to solve ... my puzzle, Sherlock ... or I'm going ... to be ... so naughty."

The call ended and Sherlock stored the phone away in his pocket.

"What do we do-" Alex stopped short as she felt her new mobile vibrate in her pocket.

Sherlock rolled his eyes as she left the room and hopped back up the stairs to the flat.

"Hello?" she answered as she slid across the accept button.

"_Hey! How are you?_" the unmistakeable voice of Logan floated through the phone.

"I'm great thanks. Apart from you interrupting the case, everything is okay. How is Cornwall then?" she asked with a teasing tone as she quietly closed the door.

"_I have honestly never been so bored in all of my life and I am not exaggerating."_

"Have you shot a wall yet?"

_"Um… no."_

"Well, then you can't be as bored as Sherlock," she replied simply.

_"I thought he got over that."_

"Apparently not, the whole pounding the wall with bullets was just on hiatus it seems," she laughed.

"_I don't even know what to say to that. Anyway, I wish that this was just a social call, but I was wondering if you could do something for me."_

"Of course."

"_Would you be able to go over to mine and check to see if my debit card is still in my wallet? I left it by accident and I am stressing out over it."_

Alex shook her head in amusement.

"Lo', I am sure that it will be there. I am going to catch up on some reading; I have finally found a good one from Sherlock's collection. I am supposed to be helping him with a case but I am sure that he can manage it for a day or so."

_"No, go around my house and check to put my mind at rest."_

"It will be there, just chill out. Look, forget about it and enjoy your holiday. Bye!"

_"NO!"_

Alex flinched and held the phone away from her ear in fright. Logan had never raised his voice like that before.

"Don't talk to me like that," Alex said calmly, masking her inner fear.

_"Go to my house and get my wallet, Alex!"_

"No because, as I told you, I am going to do some reading and I am not going to break into your house. You don't own me."

"_You listen to me! Go!"_

Alex slammed the lid of the phone down and threw the device onto the sofa. Logan had _never _spoken like that to her. She felt her insides quaking. What had she done? Had she upset him? Maybe she should go and check… yeah, maybe she was unreasonable. Her boyfriend had only asked for a favour and she had just disregarded it!

"I am such a bitch," she mumbled as she pulled on her jacket and a hair pin from the cabinet.

To be fair to her, she had never had a relationship before so she didn't exactly know how to act and how to avoid arguments. But after then, she never wanted to get into an argument with Logan again so she packed off to Logan's house just down the street.

As she rounded the corner, Logan's house came into view. Logan had lived in many houses since the two of them became friends when Alex was three and Logan was five. He had first lived on the outskirts of London and had to travel quite far every day to get to nursery, (and then later) to get to Primary School. He then moved when he was six a little bit closer and moved closer and closer another nine times before they were finally on the same street. The friends (now boyfriend and girlfriend) had thought it was fantastic that they wouldn't have to travel so far every day to see each other.

It was always Alex's that they went to to play, however. She reckoned that with Logan's sisters, he didn't get much privacy so coming to Alex's was a welcome break. Alex didn't exactly get on with his sisters. Neither did Logan come to mention it. Whenever she had asked to come around his house, he would always say that she wasn't able to because it was messy and unorganized because they were just moving in. But as soon as they had unpacked and redecorated _that _house, they moved again and had to start all over. Alex secretly thought that the excuse was a ploy to keep the siblings from arguing.

Alex took the hair pin from its position on her sleeve and slid it into the lock. She wiggled it around and smiled when she heard a satisfying click and the door easily opened. Alex was so experienced at it, it just seemed like she was using an ordinary key and she looked a little bit like Logan's elder sister Shannon so she would just pass as one of the teens that lived there.

She pushed open the door and stepped in, almost slipping when her foot snagged on the pile of slippery letters that had accumulated whilst the family had been on holiday. Alex bent down and scooped up the letters into an orderly pile before leaving them on the cabinet in the hallway. One specific letter caught Alex's eye though, it read-

_Miss B Baxter_

at the top (referring to Bethany, one of the middle children aged seventeen). There was nothing unordinary about that, it was the name of the sender at the bottom-

Alex nose wrinkled in distaste, what were the Baxter sisters getting up to? That was disgusting. Alex filed that particular letter at the bottom of the pile and proceeded upstairs to Logan's room. She had never actually been in, but knew that it was his from the sketch of him on the front of his door (drawn by his sister Helen, no doubt).

All four of Logan's sisters were little idiots. Alex and Logan had created a hierarchy of their idiocy when they were bored one faithful summer:

_1. __Shannon _-

She was the eldest and thought that she reigned supreme over all of her siblings. She was by far the most annoying dictator that ever walked the Earth.

_2. __Bethany-_

She thought that she was hilarious and completely loved herself. She couldn't go two minutes without looking at herself in the mirror and pretending that she had won an Oscar.

_3. __Chantelle-_

She was a complete princess, or at least in her eyes. She constantly preened herself and messed around with different hair and makeup products. One day her eyes would be blue, the next rainbow with shimmering sparkles. You needed sunglasses to look at her face and an epilepsy warning before she entered a room.

_4. __Helen-_

Out of all of the siblings, Helen was the one that Logan and Alex could mostly tolerate. She was a stereotypical Goth. She dyed her hair black with purple tips and wore the dark makeup and wrote sad songs. She mostly kept herself to herself and never really talked that much. Alex had nothing against Helen, in fact, she quite enjoyed some of the songs that she wrote and admired her for daring to be different (not that Helen acknowledged any of that).

So yeah, Alex did not get on with Logan's sisters since Helen couldn't hold a conversation for two seconds before going off to her room where 'life still had meaning'. Still, it must have been nice to have a sibling to talk to when the adults weren't around.

Alex pushed away the insane wave of envy and concentrated on her task. However, as she reached out to open Logan's bedroom door, her phone rang.

"Hello?"

_"Hey! It's me. It is fine, I have found my wallet here, I must have packed it!"_

Logan's voice was back to its normal, jokey, sexy tone. There was no trace of the earlier argument.

"Um… cool," Alex fumbled, unsure of what to say.

_"Look, I am really sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have shouted but… I am missing you and that just added to the stress of losing my wallet. I am really sorry, am I forgiven?"_

Alex melted and allowed a smile to grace her lips as she withdrew her hand from the doorknob and proceeded down the stairs.

"Of course you are forgiven. I am missing you too! How are you coping with your sisters?"

_"Urgh, don't get me started, Bethany has been a right…."_

And the conversation carried on until Alex's battery died on the way back to 221B. She sighed at her now blank screen and pocketed it sullenly as she went up to her flat. She opened the door and threw her phone (as usual) on the sofa before flopping down into the armchair. It was then that she raised her head. It was then that she looked to the wall. It was then that she saw the mirror. It was then that she saw the writing-

_Hello, my beautiful baby Holmes x_

Alex's blood ran cold as all of her limbs stiffened. She reached for her phone, never taking her eyes off the writing and tried to type in Sherlock's number, but she was only greeted by a black screen. She cursed. Wait- they were still down in 221C weren't they? Sherlock, Lestrade and John needed to take samples of the area for fingerprints etc.

"UNCLE SHERLOCK!" she screamed, her eyes now darting around for the intruder that had written the words in fancy looped writing, terror clear in her quaking voice.

The thundering of footsteps was soon heard and the door was thrust open, slamming off the wall. As soon as Alex saw the three stricken men, she felt it safe to hop over the back of the chair and bury her face in her Uncle's coat.

"What's happened?" Sherlock asked as he peered down at her face and held her shoulders.

Alex just pointed to the mirror and felt the tightness in Sherlock's arms triple.

"Oh my God…" John breathed.

Lestrade took out his gun from his coat pocket as Sherlock did his and Alex was handed over to John as Sherlock scouted around the flat with Lestrade, both of their guns poised.

"Are you okay? Did you see who was in here?" John asked, slipping immediately into army-mode.

Alex tried to reply but her throat was scratchy so she settled for a shake of her head. She hadn't seen anyone.

Sherlock looked over to Lestrade as they entered the kitchen and the exchanged defeated glances- there was no-one in the flat but them. Storing their weapons back in their pockets, they came back over to the living room and Sherlock headed straight over to the mirror. Lestrade put a hand on Alex's shoulder.

"You look really pale, do you want a glass of water?" he asked kindly.

Alex shook her head once more. She was completely terrified. Before, the cases had all consisted of her helping Sherlock and not taking centre stage so to speak. Now, the spotlight, the _danger_ was on her not Sherlock and she was petrified. People could call her a coward but that was how she felt. Someone was out for her blood and this person was bloody good. Alex remembered the words that Sherlock had spoken to her a couple of months ago,

_"You have to understand that there are people out there that will use you to get to me. Serious People. I need you to at least have a chance if God forbid any of them decide to go after you."_

It seemed that that day had come.

**Author's Note: DUN DUN DUN! Dramatic ending there :) **

**Thank you to:**

**Julescapoles**

**for following/favouriting!**

**Enormous thanks to:**

**fmxc17- Hello! Yeah, Donovan is a bully. I hate her in the show and I am glad that Alex hates her in this haha. I am so excited to write the father chapter! :D I hope you liked this one! x**

**emilybrock101- Hey! Haha, hysterical reviews are always the best. I can't wait to write Sherlock, Mycroft and Alex's reactions, it promises to be pretty intense haha. Thanks again for reviewing and I hope that you liked this chapter x**

**Rose Tomlinson- Hi! Your review really made me laugh, the whole Sherlock voice thing, it was so weird because I was actually reading it ni my head in Sherlock's voice and it was actually amazing ahah. I can't tell you if you are right or not, sorry :) ... only time will tell haha. I hope that you enjoyed this chapter x**

**rycbar15- Helloo! Ah, so many attempts at the 'h' names... did I manage to get it this time? As soon as I got your review, I tried to figure it out but I suddenly forgot every single name with the letter 'h' in it haha. Fingers crossed! Anyway, I hope that you liked this chapter! x**

**loveinfinity- Hey! I love that saying, it is so poignant but so true. Sally reminds me of a lot of people that I unfortunately have to keep as company for six painstakingly long hours a day at school. At least I can react without being put in a cell haha. It is so sad that Alex's past is the reason behind the bullying as well... On a lighter note! Thanks for the great review and I hope that you liked this chapter :) x**

**jokerharley- Hello! Yup, Mycroft is a pretty cool Uncle. Imagine the places that you could get into with a badge like that... ah, so many bookshops would be emptied and transported to my bedroom... Anyway! It seems that most people are veering towards Moriarty but I like the suggestion of it being John, that would certainly shake things up in 221B! I am not going to give anything away though, sorry, haha. I hope that you enjoyed this chapter! x**

**Xin0Lan- Helloo! Sorry about my fast chapters! I say to myself 'right, no chapter tonight, let them have chance to read the last one' but my brain is just like 'nope write the next chapter _now!'_ and I can't help myself haha. TRF is going to be very hard to write because of the emotional trauma that Alex is going to go through. Then again, she may or may not already know about the plan... Maybelline is a huge character and I bless Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat for making a plotline that May' can weave into. The whole story will be explained later in the fic :) I hope that you enjoyed this chapter x**

**DonnaWatson- Yo! Um, I don't particularly like a genre of music, I like all sorts. I really like old music as well. Some of my favourites are: Mr Mister, Mike and the Mechanics, Brian Adams, Smashmouth, OMD, Evanescence, Emile Sande, Blink182, ABBA, Kelly Clarkson, Ed Sheeran, Hue and Cry... the list goes on haha. A whole range of different genres there! It always brightens my mood and makes me laugh to talk to you as well because you randomness is hilarious and your analogy of the whole biting incidents just proves my point, haha! I hope that you are enjoying whichever chapter that you are on! x**

**Mary- Hello! Thanks so much for reviewing! I hope that you liked this chapter :) x**

**E.I Cochrane- Hey! Haha thanks for the lovely review :D When the e-mail came through, my phone was on the table when it vibrated and my dog jumped up in alarm when it made the noise haha. I just thought that I would share that with you, it was pretty funny! Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter :) x**

**So, another chapter done and dusted. I have just realised that this is going to be a terrifically long fanfic considering how long it is now and that we are still on series one... I hope you don't mind that! **

**Please review!**

**-Abby**

**X**


	42. Chapter 42

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or anything related to the show. All rights go to the BBC. I do own Alex.**

**Author's Note: Hey! Sorry about not updating last night but my big sister decided to bully me onto a waltzer instead haha. Ah, the joys of the town fair. Anyway, here is the next chapter- **

**Enjoy-**

_Previously: _

_Alex shook her head once more. She was completely terrified. Before, the cases had all consisted of her helping Sherlock and not taking centre stage so to speak. Now, the spotlight, the danger was on her not Sherlock and she was petrified. People could call her a coward but that was how she felt. Someone was out for her blood and this person was bloody good. Alex remembered the words that Sherlock had spoken to her a couple of months ago, _

_"You have to understand that there are people out there that will use you to get to me. Serious People. I need you to at least have a chance if God forbid any of them decide to go after you."_

_It seemed that that day had come._

Lestrade and John had retreated from the room to check the front door and outside the flat and Sherlock was texting Mycroft.

**Break in at Baker Street. Check CCTV. Alex has been threatened. I have it under control- SH**

The reply was instant.

**I have my men onto it now but it seems that there was a blackout period. Keep an eye on her. Have you changed your mind about the Bruce Partington plans yet? – MH**

Sherlock ignored the pointless question (of course he hadn't) and pocketed away his mobile before turning to Alex. She still stood in the doorway, pale as a sheet. Sherlock walked over to her and immediately wrapped his arms around her.

"I will look after you, I promise. You will just stick with me and you will be fine. No one is going to hurt you, okay?"

Alex nodded weakly.

"So what do we do now? Bart's?" she sniffed.

Sherlock grinned at her and nodded as he took her arm.

* * *

Alex was laid across two stools in the lab at St Bartholomew's hospital when Sherlock re-entered from his escapades in the room opposite. He had a thoughtful look plastered onto his face as he carried back the trainers and placed them on the table. He then proceeded to take a sample and examine it underneath the microscope.

"What are you doing?" he suddenly asked Alex.

"Trying to go to sleep," she replied as she wriggled on the hard plastic chairs.

"It is only five o'clock."

"I can sleep whenever I want to sleep! There isn't a law that states exactly what time people are to have a nap."

Sherlock was silent once more as he stared back into the microscope until he broke the quiet by saying,

"Is that comfortable?"

Alex sighed as her hip slipped down the gap between the chairs again and she pulled herself up into a sitting position.

"No," she conceded as she stood to her feet, "I don't even feel tired."

"Then why were you trying to sleep?" Sherlock frowned, what peculiar behaviour!

Alex shrugged, "I don't know, something to do. There is nothing to be done until we get these tests back anyway."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Sherlock smirked as John came through the double doors.

John sat down opposite the pair.

"So, who do you suppose it was?" he asked.

At the same time, Sherlock's phone trilled.

"Hm?" Sherlock replied, completely blanking the beep.

"The woman on the phone – the crying woman."

"Oh, she doesn't matter. She's just a hostage. No lead there."

"For God's sake, I wasn't thinking about leads!" John moaned exasperatedly.

"You're not going to be much use to her."

"Are-are they _trying_ to trace it, trace the call?"

"The bomber's too smart for that," Sherlock brushed off as his phone dinged for a second time, "Pass me my phone."

"Where is it?" John asked, looking around the room for the object he was being ordered to receive.

"Jacket."

Alex stifled a laugh as John stiffened and his features echoed livid disbelief. He rigidly marched over to Sherlock and slammed a hand down onto his shoulder before rifling roughly through his inside pocket.

"Careful!" Sherlock snapped angrily without looking up from the microscope.

John bit back a retort as he finally managed to take out the phone.

"Text from your brother," John relayed.

Alex perked up at the mention of her other Uncle.

"Delete it."

"Delete it?" both Alex and John asked incredulously.

"Missile plans are out of the country now. Nothing we can do about it."

Alex hopped over to John and looked over his shoulder at the screen.

_RE: BRUCE-PARTINGTON PLANS_

_Any progress on Andrew West's death?_

_Mycroft_

"Well, Mycroft thinks there is. He's texted you eight times. Must be important."

"Yeah, maybe he needs us to actually do something about it. It does seem pretty urgent," Alex agreed with John.

"Then why didn't he cancel his dental appointment?" Sherlock countered.

"His what?" John sighed tiredly, looking from Alex to his flatmate.

"Mycroft never texts if he can talk. Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains. End of story. The only mystery is this: why is my brother so determined to bore me when somebody else is being so delightfully interesting?"

"Try and remember there's a woman here who might die."

"What for? This hospital's full of people dying, Doctor. Why don't you go and cry by their bedside and see what good it does them?"

Alex frowned as John looked away in disbelief, that was harsh even by Sherlock's shaky standards.

"Ah!" Sherlock cried in delight, unaware of the tension created by his last statement.

The computer that was scanning the sample from the shoes bleeped SEARCH COMPLETE on the screen. Alerted by the noise, in walked Molly Hooper.

"Hey Molly!" Alex cried, waving her hand madly.

"Hello Alex! Any luck?"

"Oh yes!" Sherlock exclaimed triumphantly as Molly made her way over to the computer.

At that moment, the door opened for a second time and a hesitant head popped through. As soon as he saw that the room had other occupants other than Molly, he turned to head out apologetically.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't ..." he began.

"Jim! Hi!" Molly greeted with her lovely beaming smile, "Come in! Come in!"

Jim made his way over to the desk and Alex looked up with a frown. She knew his face…

"Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes and his niece Alex Holmes," Molly introduced but paused as she turned to John, "And, uh ... sorry…"

"John Watson, hi," John smiled, secretly irked that Molly had forgotten his name but pushed away the feeling to shake Jim's hand.

Alex gave the man a kind nod, still unable to place him. Jim turned to Sherlock and stared at his back like a fan-boy.

"So _you're_ Sherlock Holmes. Molly's told me all about you. You on one of your cases?" he asked excitedly as he walked around the back of him, staring wistfully at Sherlock.

"Jim works in I.T. upstairs. That's how we met. Office romance," Molly giggled smittenly, Jim joining in with her.

But of course, Sherlock had to break the romantic moment. He looked up for half a second and turned back to his microscope.

"Gay."

"Sorry, what?"

All smiles immediately fell and Alex kicked Sherlock from under the table. He looked up at her accusingly but she just glowered in his direction. He seemed to get the message and moved his head to face Jim.

"Nothing. Um, hey!" Sherlock smiled falsely.

"Hey," Jim smiled admiringly.

As he lowered his hand from the wave, he accidently knocked off a metal dish which landed with a loud clatter that resonated off the walls. Sherlock looked properly affronted whilst John and Alex face palmed at each other.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Jim apologised profusely as he placed the dish back and awkwardly hovered back over to Molly, "Well, I'd better be off. I'll see you at the Fox, about six-ish?"

"Yeah!" Molly grinned.

Jim pressed a hand to her back and looked at Sherlock.

"Bye. It was nice to meet you."

He stared at him longingly, obviously waiting for a response. He got none.

"You too," John supplied, desperate to break the awkwardness and put Jim out of his misery.

Jim nodded somewhat sadly that he didn't get a reply from Sherlock and left through the door with a sullen wave to Molly. As Alex watched his retreating back, her mind clicked and she flew out of her seat.

"I am just going to the toilet," she told Sherlock as she slipped through the door and ran up the corridor to Jim.

"Hey! Stop!" she called.

Jim seemed to jerk upright as he turned to face Alex.

"Oh hello, Alice," he greeted.

"Alex," the girl replied automatically.

"Sorry, _Alex_," he smiled.

"This is going to sound very strange but we have met before," Alex told him.

He looked thoroughly confused and Alex was beginning to panic. She _was_ thinking about the right person wasn't she?

"In Birmingham?" Alex prompted desperately.

Suddenly, his face flooded with recognition and a beam graced his pale face.

"Oh yes! I remember! Oh, what a coincidence, fate has worked here hasn't it?" he laughed.

Alex decided to bite back her analogy on how fate doesn't exist and settled for laughing with him.

"Yeah, you gave me a sausage roll. That is so strange. So are you originally from Birmingham then?" Alex asked.

"Uh, no. I was just up there on business. One of the computers in an office up there needed to be fixed so I was chosen to go up there. It seems like you aren't from up there either."

"Nope. Londoner through and through. I was just up there… um… visiting a friend," Alex lied, she really didn't want to divulge the true nature of her voyage up to Birmingham.

"Cool. Well I had better get back up to the office before they sent a party out to search for me," he chuckled.

"Oh yeah, sorry. I forgot that you are meant to be working. I will leave you to it. I just wanted to say thank you for your kindness earlier, you didn't have to do that," Alex said sincerely and turned to leave.

"It was no problem, Alessandra."

Alex paused as she reached the door and threw over her shoulder,

"Oh yeah, by the way, if you hurt Molly, I will hunt you down and have you put before a firing squad. Have a nice day!"

Alex returned into the room and took up her seat next to John. It seemed that nothing much had happened in her short absence.

"What did you mean gay?" Molly asked Sherlock, "We are together."

"And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly. You've put on three pounds since I last saw you," Sherlock replied, cleverly steering the conversation away from the gay comment.

"Two and a half."

"No, three."

"Sherlock," John warned under his breath.

"Ignore him Molly, he is just being… well he is just being Sherlock," Alex faltered.

"He's not gay. Why do you have to spoil-? He's not," Molly tried to convince herself.

"With that level of personal grooming?" Sherlock snorted.

"Because he puts a bit of product in his hair? I put product in my hair!" John inputted, earning himself a high five from Alex.

"You _wash_ your hair. There's a difference. No-no – tinted eyelashes; clear signs of taurine cream around the frown lines; those tired clubber's eyes. Then there's his underwear."

"His _underwear_?" Molly squeaked.

"Visible above the waistline – _very_ visible; very particular brand. That, plus the extremely suggestive fact that he just left his number under this dish here," he lifted up the metal dish, "and I'd say you'd better break it off now and save yourself the pain."

Alex was about to mention the fact that Jim had a daughter but saw the distraught look on Molly's face and deemed it best to clamp her mouth shut. Molly stared at Sherlock for a moment before turning and fleeing from the room, a small sob escaping her lips. Alex contemplated going after her but thought that she probably needed some space.

**Author's Note: Aw, I always feel sorry for Molly, especially in this scene. She has to be one of the most patient and tolerant people ever to deal with Sherlock after him doing that. I am really sorry but my mother once again is telling me to turn the laptop off and go to sleep so I will reply to your awesome reviews in the next chapter. I have done half of them and they will be double length for double reviews haha. Goodnight, sweet dreams!**

**Please Review**

**-Abby**

**X**


	43. Chapter 43

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or anything relating to it. All rights go to the BBC. I do own Alex.**

**Author's Note: Hello! I hope you are all enjoying the weekend :) Here is the next chapter-**

**Enjoy:**

_Previously:_

_"Visible above the waistline – very visible; very particular brand. That, plus the extremely suggestive fact that he just left his number under this dish here," he lifted up the metal dish, "and I'd say you'd better break it off now and save yourself the pain." _

_Alex was about to mention the fact that Jim had a daughter but saw the distraught look on Molly's face and deemed it best to clamp her mouth shut. Molly stared at Sherlock for a moment before turning and fleeing from the room, a small sob escaping her lips. Alex contemplated going after her but thought that she probably needed some space._

"Charming. Well done," John snarled at his friend.

"Just saving her time. Isn't that kinder?" Sherlock frowned as he turned to face John.

"'Kinder'? No, no, Sherlock. _That_," he nodded his head towards the door that Molly had just left through, "wasn't kind."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, apparently bored of the topic of conversation and pushed on of the trainers towards John.

"Go on then," he invited as he leant back in his chair.

"Mmm?"

"You know what I do. Off you go."

John snorted mirthlessly and checked his watch,

"No."

"Go on."

"I'm not gonna stand here so you can humiliate me while I try and disseminate-"

"An outside eye, a second opinion," Sherlock interrupted, "It's very useful to me."

"Get Alex to do it. She is almost as good as you," John reasoned.

Alex raised her head, more than ready to practice her deductions but Sherlock just shook his head, shooting her a look that she couldn't quite place. The look was only brief however and it was soon turned on John.

Alex had to hand it to her friend; he did pretty well not crumbling under Sherlock's stare for as long as he did. Most people only made it to-

"Fine," John relented.

-spoke too soon.

John cleared his throat and picked up one of the shoes in his hand with a blank look on his face as he turned it over.

"I don't know, they're just a pair of shoes- trainers," he corrected himself.

"Good," Sherlock praised.

"Umm ... they're in good nick," John continued, "I'd say they were pretty new ... except the sole has been well-worn, so the owner must have had them for a while. Uh, they're very eighties – probably one of those retro designs."

"You're on _sparkling_ form. What else?" Sherlock pushed, genuinely curious now as to how much John was able to deduce.

"Well, they're quite big, so a man's-" John stopped short as Alex's small shake of the head caught his eye whilst Sherlock was typing on his phone.

She motioned to the tongue of the shoe and allowed John to figure out the rest.

John looked down to the indicated area and peeled back the material to find blue smudges.

"But there are traces of a name inside in felt-tip. Adults don't write their names inside their shoes, so these belonged to a kid," John sent Alex a thankful look.

"Excellent," Sherlock said proudly, "What else?"

"Uh," he covertly looked over to Alex but only got a shrug in response; she hadn't picked up on anything else. It was time for the professional, "That's it."

"That's it?"

John nodded, "How did I do?"

"Well, John; _really_ well. I mean, you missed almost everything of importance, but, um, you know."

Sherlock held out his hand for the shoe expectantly and grinned when John shoved the footwear at him in frustration. He looked closely at the trainers and Alex inched closer to her Uncle to watch him at work.

"The owner loved these. Scrubbed them clean, whitened them where they got discoloured. Changed the laces three ... no, _four_ times. Even so, there are traces of his flaky skin where his fingers have come into contact with them, so he suffered from eczema. Shoes are well-worn, more so on the inside, which means the owner had weak arches. British-made, twenty years old."

"Twenty years?" John repeated in disbelief.

"They're not retro – they're original," Alex continued as she swiped Sherlock's mobile and showed John the page that Sherlock had found, "Limited edition: two blue stripes, nineteen eighty-nine."

"But there's still mud on them. They look _new_," John countered.

Sherlock snatched his phone back from Alex and gazed thoughtfully back at the shoes.

"Someone's kept them that way. Quite a bit of mud caked on the soles. Analysis shows it's from Sussex, with London mud overlaying it."

"How do you know?"

"Pollen. Clear as a map reference to me," Sherlock said as he nodded to the computer scanning for pollen readings all over England, "South of the river, too. So, the kid who owned these trainers came to London from Sussex twenty years ago and left them behind."

"So what happened to him?"

"Something bad. He _loved_ those shoes, remember. He'd never leave them filthy. Wouldn't leave them go unless he had to. So: a child with big feet gets…" Sherlock trailed off as his face flooded with comprehension, "Oh."

"What?" John asked as Alex looked across the lab to see what her Uncle was staring at.

"Carl Powers," he replied softly.

"Sorry, who?"

"Carl Powers, John."

"What is it?"

"It's where I began."

* * *

Alex sat in between Sherlock and John in the back of the taxi. They had six hours left to go on the countdown and were finally getting somewhere.

"Nineteen eighty-nine, a young kid – champion swimmer – came up from Brighton for a school sports tournament; drowned in the pool. Tragic accident," Sherlock started, "Alex, you weren't even born then and John, you wouldn't remember it. Why should you?"

"But _you_ remember."

"Yes."

"Something fishy about it?" John asked with a knowing look.

"Nobody thought so – nobody except me. I was only a kid myself. I read about it in the papers."

"You start young, you Holmeses don't you?" John teased, looking now at Alex next to him.

"The boy, Carl Powers, had some kind of fit in the water, but by the time they got him out it was too late. But there was something wrong; something I couldn't get out of my head."

"What?"

"His shoes."

"What about them?"

"They weren't there. I made a fuss; I tried to get the police interested, but nobody seemed to think it was important. He'd left all the rest of his clothes in his locker, but there was no sign of his shoes," he picked up the evidence bag with the trainers slipped inside, "Until now."

"Where are we going now then? Scotland Yard?" Alex asked enthusiastically.

"No, we are going home for the moment. I need to find out more of the facts and concentrate. I cannot do that with the likes of Anderson and Donovan skulking around."

"Damn right," Alex muttered under her breath, causing John to look at her.

'What has gone on between them?' John thought to himself. He reckoned that it had something to do with Alex's earlier conversation with Donovan that morning but there were no raised voices so he had assumed that they were merely working out their differences or mildly scolding the other- obviously not.

The taxi soon pulled up outside 221B and (as usual) John was left to pay the cabbie as both Holmeses sped into the flat like bloody race horses. John handed over the money and disgruntledly entered the flat in a much slower pace.

"Alex, I need every newspaper article on Carl Powers that you can find printed off now," Sherlock ordered as he unwrapped the trainers and began to take more samples.

Alex nodded and took out her own laptop. She typed in 'Carl Powers Death' and tapped on the _Northern Echo _newspaper. She print screened the contents and put it onto a word document. She did this for at least nine articles.

"Is the _Daily Mail_ worth printing off?" Alex questioned.

"No," Sherlock called from the kitchen as Alex clicked print on her documents.

The printer shuddered and spluttered into life, coughing up a cloud of dust before spitting out the pages. Alex hesitantly took them and quickly switched the temperamental printer off at the wall. Was it possible to have a psychopathic printer?

Spreading the articles over the kitchen table, Alex began to scour through them as Sherlock took the other half. This kept them occupied for the next hour or so until the kitchen door was slid open and John crept through.

"Can I help? I want to help. There's only five hours left-"

A text alert cut John off and he rummaged around in his pocket to retrieve his phone.

_Any developments?  
Mycroft Holmes_

"It's your brother. He's texting _me_ now," John frowned in puzzlement, "How does he know my number?"

"Must be a root canal," Sherlock commented as Alex giggled.

"Look, he did say 'national importance'," John quoted as he fully came into the kitchen.

"How quaint," Sherlock snorted, his eyes never leaving the pages.

"What is?"

"You are. Queen and Country."

"You can't just ignore it," John told him, his voice rising ever-so-slightly.

"I'm not ignoring it. Putting my best man onto it right now," Sherlock reassured him.

"Right. Good… Who's that?"

Alex raised an eyebrow at him and he sighed. _Bloody Holmeses._

* * *

John still had that thought in his mind as he sat in an uncomfortable suit and tie in the most intimidating office that he had ever had the _pleasure _of being in. He glanced behind him and saw the bookcase that Alex had told him about. Apparently, it had a secret door behind it that you only had to pull out the fifth volume of the _Monarchs at the Height of Power_ to uncover. John was sceptical, however, it all seemed a bit too Scooby Doo for him.

The desk in front of him was pristinely cleaned and completely organized. John couldn't help but think to his home back in Baker Street and compare it to the office to see how different the two Holmes brothers really were.

The sound of a door opening made John scramble to his feet as Mycroft Holmes walked in. John felt rather like a schoolboy being sent to the headmaster's office on the first day.

"John," Mycroft declared, "How nice. I was hoping you wouldn't be long."

_Of course he knew,_ John thought bitterly.

"How can I help you?" the eldest Holmes asked with a wave indicating that John should sit down.

"Thank you," John said as he sat, "Um, well, I was wanting to ... um, your brother sent me to collect more facts about the stolen plans, the missile plans."

Mycroft looked over his shoulder at the other man and smiled.

"Did he?"

"Yes. He's investigating now. He's, err, investigating away," John fumbled, "Um, I just wondered what else you can tell me about the dead man."

Mycroft leant back on his desk and folded his arms as he spoke,

"Uh, twenty-seven; a clerk at Vauxhall Cross – err, MI6. He was involved in the Bruce-Partington Programme in a minor capacity. Security checks A-OK; no known terrorist affiliations or sympathies. Last seen by his fiancée at ten thirty yesterday evening."

"Right. He was found at Battersea, yes? So he got on the train," John assumed as he scribbled down the notes.

"No."

"What?"

"He had an Oyster card-" Mycroft suddenly clapped a hand to the side of his mouth as his gum twinged, "but it hadn't been used."

"Must have bought a ticket."

"There was no ticket on the body," Mycroft contradicted as he lowered his hand.

"Then-"

"Then how did he end up with a bashed-in brain on the tracks at Battersea? That is the question – the one I was rather hoping Sherlock would provide an answer to. How's he getting on?"

"He-he's fine, yes. Oh, and-and _it_ is going ... _very_ well. It's, um, you know – he's completely focussed on it," John lied unconvincingly.

_Why did I even attempt to lie to Mycroft bloody Holmes?! _

* * *

Darkness had fallen outside 221B and Alex reached over the desk to pull the curtains closed and flick the light switch on. Sherlock didn't react to the change in environment; he just stayed hunched over the microscope in the kitchen side table. He hadn't moved for two hours straight apart from a little jerk of his thumb on the dial of the microscope to change the magnification.

A soft opening of the door made Alex look over in alarm. The writing on the now cleaned mirror had made her jumpy. Thankfully, it was only Mrs Hudson carrying a tray of mugs and biscuits.

"Hello, dear," Mrs Hudson smiled motherly at the teen as she handed her a hot chocolate and a chocolate chip cookie.

"Oh cheers, Mrs H," Alex said gratefully as she took a sip of the drink, "I wouldn't try and get a reaction from Uncle Sherlock yet. He is right in the middle of a case."

"Oh right," Mrs Hudson chirped knowingly.

"Poison," Sherlock breathed.

"What are you going on about?"

The woman laid down the tray next to Sherlock and was just about to place Sherlock's mug down next to him when he slammed his fist down loudly. Mrs Hudson cringed and turned to flee the room.

"Clostridium botulinum!"

"Sherlock!" Alex scolded.

John took this moment to enter the living room, sending a questioning glance to Mrs Hudson as she passed him on the stairs in a flap to get back to her flat. Sherlock turned to John.

"It's one of the deadliest poisons on the planet!"

John's reply was just a blank stare.

"Carl Powers!" Sherlock prompted.

"Oh, wait, are you saying he was murdered?" Alex asked as she rose from her seat and walked over to Sherlock as he advanced towards the trainers hanging on a line across the living room.

"Remember the shoelaces? The boy suffered from eczema. It'd be the easiest thing in the world to introduce the poison into his medication. Two hours later he comes up to London, the poison takes effect, paralyses the muscles and he drowns," Sherlock explained.

"What – how-how come the autopsy didn't pick that up?" John questioned, wasn't that the whole point of an autopsy?!

" It's virtually undetectable. Nobody would have been looking for it," Sherlock said as he began typing in the forum section of his website _The Science of Deduction_.

_FOUND. Pair of trainers belonging to Carl Powers (1978-1989)._

" But there were still tiny traces of it left inside the trainers from where he put the cream on his feet," Sherlock continued as his fingers rattled away at the keyboard again.

_Botulinum toxin still present. Apply 221b Baker St._

"That's why they had to go…"

"So how do we let the bomber know?" Alex pushed; the crying woman was still hostage.

"Get his attention, stop the clock."

"The killer kept the shoes all these years," John remarked softly.

"Yes, meaning?"

"He is our bomber."

At that moment the pink iPhone rang and Sherlock dived to pick it up.

"_Well done, you. Come and get me_," the sobbing woman read out.

"Where _are_ you? Tell us where you are," Sherlock ordered.

Alex watched as her Uncle's features screwed up slightly as he placed the location in his mind palace. He promptly hung up and rang Lestrade to tell him. Once the phonecalls were made, he gave a sharp nod of the head, signalling that the woman was now safe.

John quickly announced that he was going to sleep and, bidding the Holmeses goodnight, he went off to bed. Sherlock took his usual position in the armchair and entered his mind palace, no doubt running over the day's events in his head like a film reel. Alex sighed and rubbed her tired eyes. Deciding that saying goodnight to Sherlock when he was in his 'trance' would be useless so she clambered up to bed and collapsed.

Her mind couldn't settle however and she knew why. After ten minutes of tossing and turning, Alex huffed and threw her duvet over her shoulder before proceeding down the stairs. She didn't go to the living room, though. She bypassed it (checking that Sherlock was still in his mind palace) and headed down the stairs to Mrs Hudson's flat. The girl opened the door with her key and peeked through into Mrs Hudson's bedroom. The woman was fast asleep.

Alex let out a silent breath. Since she knew that someone would have had to get into Mrs Hudson's flat to get the key, a bomber no less, she was furious. She backed out of the room and walked into the living room. She plumped up one of the pillows on the sofa to rest her head on and pulled her duvet up to her chin.

And that was how Alex spent the night, facing the front door so that if anybody came near Mrs Hudson, the first thing that they would meet would be Alex's fist connecting with their face.

**Author's Note: I hope you all enjoyed that :) As you will know if you have reviewed, I now send replies via pm but if you are a guest then I will reply as normal. I hope this is okay for everyone!**

**Thank you to:**

**visionaryopticle**

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**for following/favouriting!**

**HUGE THANK YOU TO:**

**fmxc17- Hey! Thanks for the lovely review as always! Ah, Sherlock can be the meanest person on Earth and Molly would still be smitten with him, that is true love in my opinion haha. I hope that you liked this chapter! x**

**E.I Cochrane- Hello! Everyone feels sorry for mousy Molly :( she has to be one of the best characters ever though ;) Thanks for the lovely review as usual and I hope that you enjoyed this chapter! x**


	44. Chapter 44

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or anything relating to the show. All rights go to the BBC. I do own Alex.**

**Author's Note: Hello! Urgh, school tomorrow :( At least I have double drama in the morning though... Here is the next chapter!**

**Enjoy:**

_Previously:_

_Alex let out a silent breath. Since she knew that someone would have had to get into Mrs Hudson's flat to get the key, a bomber no less, she was furious. She backed out of the room and walked into the living room. She plumped up one of the pillows on the sofa to rest her head on and pulled her duvet up to her chin. _

_And that was how Alex spent the night, facing the front door so that if anybody came near Mrs Hudson, the first thing that they would meet would be Alex's fist connecting with their face._

Alex awoke early and, taking a second check to see if Mrs Hudson was alright, she proceeded back up to 221B and headed straight to the kitchen. She figured that Sherlock wouldn't be eating anything and he would be so wrapped up in the new 'game' that he would probably forget about John's need for food. She wasn't too hungry herself but a piece of toast wouldn't go amiss.

She took care to crack the eggs as quietly as she could so as not to disturb Sherlock. He was still in his mind palace, immobile in the living room. The egg poured out of the shell and spread into the frying pan.

_John may as well have a decent breakfast, _she thought.

So in went sausage and bacon also. Ten minutes later, the food was cooked and served out on the table. It wasn't even a full sixty seconds before John wandered in, the smell enticing him.

"Wow! Someone has been busy!" he exclaimed as he sat down at the table.

"You have had to put up with a lot over the last couple of months so I thought that you deserved something back," she smiled as she pushed his plate toward him and munched on a piece of bacon herself.

"Well, thank you Alex. Is there any chance that Sherlock will be eating anything this morning?"

"Not when we are in the middle of a case like this."

John studied Alex for a moment as she fell silent and concentrated on a spec on the table.

"Have you ever had a case like this before?" he finally asked.

"Not that I can remember. There was something when I was little, though," she suddenly recalled, "It was when Mum was still alive and I am pretty sure that it was going on before I was born and I can remember some details from when I was five or six so it must have been a long case."

"What do you remember?" John asked casually.

"Mum and Uncle Sherlock used to go away a lot, usually in Europe. When I was very small, I used to think that they were going on holiday without me and I used to go off in a huff but as I got older, I understood that they were trying to solve a case. I used to go and stay with Uncle Mycroft and every time the two of them came home, they always looked tired and went straight to the sitting room to talk to Uncle Mycroft about 'grown up stuff'. Everything just kind of stopped after Mum died so I assume that the case got solved but every time I ask either of my Uncles, they just tell me that it doesn't concern me and that I should forget about it," Alex explained.

"What do you remember about the case itself then?" John asked. He was just making conversation and was unaware of the presence of Sherlock behind him. As was Alex.

"Not much to be honest. They were all very secretive, even Anthea," Alex shrugged.

Sherlock nodded to himself and turned back; Alex didn't know anything, she was fine.

"Wait, I do remember something…"

Sherlock stopped in his tracks.

"A name…" Alex screwed her eyes shut as she delved back into her past, "It was late. I had a nightmare and I was staying at Uncle Mycroft's so I went to his study to find him and I looked through the keyhole and saw Uncle Sherlock and Mum sat with him. They had just gotten back from Europe again and I was about to run and see them when I stopped and listened. Mum was nearly crying and she said a name… oh what was it… it began with…"

Sherlock pulled the kitchen door across with a loud bang.

"Sherlock!" Alex and John chastised at the same time.

"Sorry," he replied uncaringly as he slipped into the dining seat.

Alex sent him a filthy look which he returned, but he was just glad that he had managed to distract her from the name that she was about to remember…

"Are you nearly finished?" he asked, eyeing the food with distaste.

"Yes," John said as he rolled his eyes and laid down his knife and fork.

"Good because Lestrade wants to see us."

* * *

"She lives in Cornwall. Two men broke in wearing masks, forced her to drive to the car park and decked her out in enough explosives to take down a house," Lestrade told them gravely from behind his desk, "Told her to phone you. She had to read out from this pager."

He leant over a placed the device in front of John on the desk. John picked it up and turned it in his hands.

"And if she deviated by one word, the sniper would set her off," Sherlock explained as he paced the office.

"Or if you hadn't solved the case."

Alex shivered; she couldn't have that on her conscience.

"Oh. Elegant," Sherlock breathed, his fingers steepled under his chin as he walked to face the door.

"'Elegant'?" John reiterated in exasperation.

"But what was the point? Why would anyone _do_ this?" Lestrade asked.

"I know, _how_ can someone do this?" Alex nodded in disgust.

"Oh – I can't be the only person in the world that gets bored."

As soon as the words left his mouth, the pink iPhone buzzed once more. John, Alex and Lestrade swivelled in their chairs to watch as Sherlock unlocked it.

_"You have one new message."_

A series of three pips and one long one echoed from the device.

"Four pips," John noted.

"First test passed, it would seem. Here's the second."

Sherlock showed the inhabitants of the room the screen of the phone. Alex looked over John's shoulder to see a photograph of a car.

"It's abandoned, wouldn't you say?"

"I'll see if it's been reported," Lestrade mumbled as he punched in a number and pressed the phone on his desk to his ear.

The door opened behind them and in walked none other than Sally Donovan. Alex resisted the urge to vomit.

"Freak, it's for you," the bushy haired woman drawled, ignoring Alex's glare.

Sherlock walked over to her and took the phone before walking outside the office to answer it.

"Hello?"

"_It's okay that you've gone to the police_," a trembling male voice said and Sherlock immediately recognised him as one of the new hostages.

"Who is this? Is this you again?"

"_But don't rely on them. Clever you, guessing about Carl Powers. I never liked him.__ Carl laughed at me, so I stopped him laughing_."

Inside the office, Alex nudged John and signalled for him to follow her as she exited the office and looked at Sherlock with concern.

"And you've stolen another voice, I presume," Sherlock continued.

"_This is about you and me," _the tearful voice answered.

"Who _are_ you? What's that noise?"

"_The sounds of life, Sherlock. But don't worry, I can soon fix that," _the man let out a terrified sob at the prospect, "You solved my last puzzle in nine hours. This time you have eight."

The line went dead. Alex, John and Sherlock passed knowing looks. Phase 2 commencing.

Lestrade's head popped out of the office with a smirk.

"We've found it."

* * *

Alex shivered against the freezing air and unconsciously shuffled closer between John and Sherlock to try and absorb some extra body heat as they followed Lestrade into an old landfill site. The car that was in the picture stood just in the corner.

"The car was hired yesterday morning by an Ian Monkford. Banker of some kind; City boy. Paid in cash," Lestrade explained as he flicked through notes on his clipboard, "Told his wife he was going away on a business trip, but he never arrived."

Alex joined Sherlock and Lestrade as they walked straight to the car door but John got side tracked by Donovan.

"You're still hanging round them," she stated.

"Yeah, well…" John trailed off awkwardly.

"Opposites attract, I suppose."

"No, we're not-"

"You should get yourself a hobby – stamps, maybe. Model trains. Safer," Donovan suggested condescendingly.

John shook his head as he walked over to join Alex and Sherlock. Sherlock opened the glove compartment and took out a small white card, at which Alex raised an eyebrow at. The whole inside interior of the front of the car was smeared in scarlet blood.

"Before you ask, yes, it's Monkford's blood. The DNA checks out," Lestrade informed them.

"No body," Sherlock identified.

"Not yet," Donovan replied snottily.

"Get a sample sent to the lab," Sherlock ordered and backed out of the car.

Alex also straightened up and snorted at Donovan and Lestrade. The detective inspector gave Donovan a pointed look and she just stared back at him petulantly. He held her gaze however and she grunted in annoyance and stomped off like a child being scolded.

"Is it time for the drama lesson of the day?" Alex whispered to Sherlock.

He grinned down at her.

"Initiate."

Alex's face crumpled up as she burrowed against Sherlock's side. His arm looped around her shoulders and pressed her tightly to him. John smiled slightly at the two, ignorant to the true nature of the affectionate scene. They walked over to Mrs Monkford.

"Mrs Monkford?" Sherlock asked and Alex got that tingling feeling in her stomach like she always did when she was about to act.

"Yes," the woman looked between John and Sherlock and made a snap judgement and sighed, "I am sorry, but I've already spoken with two policemen."

"No, we're not from the police; we're-"

"Sherlock Holmes. Very old friend of your husband's. We, um, we grew up together," Sherlock's voice was thick with emotion and tears filled his eyes.

"I am Alex Holmes. Ian used to come 'round and play with me when I was younger before he went to work sometimes when he and Sherlock wanted to catch up," Alex's voice cracked and she hid her face in Sherlock's coat.

"I'm sorry, who? I don't think he ever mentioned either of you."

"Oh, he _must_ have done. This is ... this is horrible, isn't it?" Sherlock had full blown tears down his face.

"Ian didn't deserve to go so early. He has never done anything wrong, he played by the rules so why?" Alex added.

"Well he _did _sometimes-" Mrs Monkford stopped herself immediately.

"I mean, I just can't believe it. I only saw him the other day. Same old Ian – not a care in the world," Sherlock continued, his acting of course top-class.

"Sorry, but my husband has been depressed for months. Who _are_ you?" Mrs Monkford glared at them both.

"Really strange that he hired a car. Why would he do that? It's a bit suspicious, isn't it?"

"No, it isn't. He forgot to renew the tax on the car, that's all."

"Oh, well, that was Ian! That was Ian all over!" Sherlock chuckled tearfully with a fond smile.

"No it wasn't!"

Sherlock and Alex's false personas dropped rapidly.

"Wasn't it? Interesting."

Sherlock turned on his heel and ducked under the police tape, Alex wriggling out from under his arm since the act was over.

"Why did you two lie to her?" John asked as he followed them.

"People don't like telling you things, but they love to contradict you. Past tense, did you notice?" Sherlock elucidated.

"Sorry, what?"

"We both referred to her husband in the past tense. She joined in. Bit premature – they've only just found the car."

"You think she murdered her husband?"

"Definitely not. That's not a mistake a murderer would make."

Alex snorted; she could count a few murderers that they had come across that appeared to be that stupid.

"I see… no I don't, what am I seeing?" John answered honestly and looked to Sherlock to explain.

Unfortunately, all he got was a shout from Donovan.

"Fishing! Try fishing!"

"You try and get through five seconds without being a git!" Alex called back as she turned to face the insufferable woman.

John groaned and pulled Alex away by the shoulder, the last thing they needed was a catfight.

"Where now?" he asked once the situation was under control.

"Janus Cars," Sherlock showed John and Alex the business card from his pocket, "I found this in the glove compartment."

Alex's phone took that moment to vibrate in her pocket and she stopped to answer it. John turned when he realised that she was no longer following but she motioned to him that she would catch them up. Sherlock wrinkled his nose in displeasure but she just shot him a glare as the men continued to walk. Alex slid the answer button and pressed the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

_"H-hello," _the voice was tremulous and quaking.

"Are you okay, sir?" Alex asked in concern.

_"I am fine, dear Alessandra. But this poor man isn't. Are you any closer to figuring it out?"_

Alex's eyes narrowed in hate.

"Hello again. Why are you doing this? Why are you ringing _me_ and not Sherlock?"

_"I feel that I have been neglecting you my sweetheart. Don't worry, we shall be together soon."_

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Alex's voice began to rise in anger, "Don't think that you can call me 'sweetheart' either. Look, we are going to solve this little rat race that you have sent us on and we are going to find you and you are going to rot in prison for what you have done! People could have died!"

_"Oh, you are childish aren't you? I had hoped that I would contact you when you had some maturity."_

"Me some maturity? I am not the one strapping people to bombs because I am BORED!"

Sherlock and John turned at Alex's yell and frowned at her from the top of the bank.

_"Lovely, I think I get to speak to stand-in daddy Holmes now."_

Sure enough, Sherlock was advancing towards her. He held out his hand for Alex's phone and she reluctantly handed it over.

"I thought that you said this was between me and you," Sherlock's voice was hard and cold.

_"Whoops, I must have forgotten to mention your little black-haired time-bomb next to you. She has quite the temper."_

"Leave her out of your game."

_"No."_

The line was filled with one long beep as the call ended. Alex tried to retrieve her phone but Sherlock pocketed it instead.

"Hey!" she protested indignantly.

"What did he say to you?" Sherlock probed, ignoring her protests.

"Nothing, he was just taunting me."

Sherlock gave her a stern look, "If you are lying to me…"

"I am not! I promise!" she told him sincerely.

Her Uncle eventually nodded, satisfied and pushed Alex in front of him to meet John at the top of the hill. Once there, they hailed a cab. Sherlock bent down to the cabby's window,

"Janus Cars, please," he ordered.

**Author's Note: Um, not much to say today. The next chapter should be up either tomorrow or Tuesday :) **

**Thanks to:**

**gina1120**

**DonnaWatson**

**for following/favouriting :)**

**Replies to all reviews should be through to you in the next half an hour or so because my messages are playing up again. You will have them soon though! **

**I hope that you enjoyed this chapter all of you lovely people!**

**Please Review**

**-Abby**


	45. Chapter 45

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or anything related to the show. All rights go to the BBC. I own Alex.**

**Author's Note: Hello! Here is the next chapter:**

**Enjoy:**

_Previously:_

_"Hey!" she protested indignantly._

_"What did he say to you?" Sherlock probed, ignoring her protests._

_"Nothing, he was just taunting me."_

_Sherlock gave her a stern look, "If you are lying to me…"_

_"I am not! I promise!" she told him sincerely. _

_Her Uncle eventually nodded, satisfied and pushed Alex in front of him to meet John at the top of the hill. Once there, they hailed a cab. Sherlock bent down to the cabby's window,_

_"Janus Cars, please," he ordered. _

Alex rested her chin on her fist as she stared glumly at the wall behind the desk that she was sitting at. She was not in the best of moods to start with and having her new mobile phone taken off her by no fault of her own did not help the situation in the slightest. The trio had arrived at Janus Cars about half an hour ago but they had to wait because Mr Ewert (the manager) had other business to attend to. Obviously the murder of one of his customers was trivial compared to who threw up in the new Porsche.

"Can't see how I can help you gentlemen," Mr Ewert admitted as he leaned back casually in his chair opposite Alex and John, "And lady of course."

"Mr Monkford hired the car from you yesterday," John double checked as he scribbled down notes in his trusty notepad.

"Yeah. Lovely motor. Mazda RX-8. Wouldn't mind one of them myself!"

"Is that one?" Sherlock asked, pointing behind Mr Ewert at the wall display.

Mr Ewert spun his head to look at the image of the car that was clearly not a Mazda. As he turned, Sherlock leant over and glanced at the man's neck. Alex raised an eyebrow at him and he just tapped the top of his coat and his niece immediately understood.

"No, they're all Jags. Yeah, I can see you're not a car man, eh?" Mr Ewert smiled, shooting John an amused look.

"But, err, surely _you_ can afford one – a Mazda, I mean?"

"Yeah, it's a fair point. But you know how it is: it's like working in a sweetshop. Once you start picking at the liquorice allsorts, when does it all stop, eh?"

Alex nodded: people that worked in chocolate factories must have to have unbelievable self-control. If that was Alex, she would be the size of a bus and then some. But not a double decker, let's be _rational _here.

Alex was drawn from her chocolate analogy by the sight of Mr Ewert scratching his arm. She would have just cast it off, if it wasn't for the small pinprick sized dot of blood seeping through his shirt. That was when alarm bells began to ring in Alex's head. She knew that Sherlock had picked up on it as well.

"But you didn't know Mr Monkford?" John checked.

"No, he was just a client. Came in here and hired one of my cars. No idea what happened to him. Poor sod," Mr Ewert looked down sadly.

But not sad enough. Or too sad. Either way, Alex could pick him out as being fake; countless drama lessons with Sherlock had taught her to recognise when someone is acting.

"Nice holiday, Mr Ewert?" Sherlock suddenly asked.

"Eh?"

"You've been away, haven't you?"

"Oh, the-the," he motioned with his tanned hand to his tanned face, "No, it's, err, sunbeds, I'm afraid, yeah. Too busy to get away. My wife would love it, though – bit of sun."

"Have you got any change for the cigarette machine?"

_Oh dear_, Alex thought, he wasn't exactly playing the subtle card.

"What?"

"Well, I noticed one on the way in and I haven't got any change," he held out a ten pound note in a loose grip, "I'm _gasping_."

Mr Ewert reached into his trouser pocket with a grunt and pulled out his wallet. He opened it up and flicked through some notes that Alex couldn't see from her position.

"No, sorry."

"Oh well. Thank you very much for your time, Mr Ewert," Sherlock smiled as he headed for the door, "You've been very helpful. Come on, John, Alex."

Alex stood to her feet and winced as her back cracked. _I am seriously unfit, _she thought. She followed John out of the door and they walked out into the car park.

"I-I've got change if you still want to, uh," John offered.

"Nope, he made a deal that if he picked up another cigarette, he has to sit through _Mamma Mia _with me," Alex grinned wickedly.

"I should get the DVD ready then."

"Hey! Nicotine patches, remember!" Sherlock defended, "I'm doing well."

Alex jogged a little so that she fell into step with her Uncle and looped her arm through his.

"That you are, Mr Holmes, that you are."

"So if you didn't need cigarettes, what was _that_ all about?" John called from behind the two.

"I needed to look inside his wallet."

"Why?"

"Because Mr Ewert is a liar."

* * *

"Can't I come with you?" Alex groaned petulantly outside the taxi.

"No. Mycroft wants to see you and he will skin me if I don't make sure that you go," Sherlock replied strictly.

"Since when did you care what Mycroft thought of you?"

_Since I realised that he holds the power to take you off me, _Sherlock wanted to say but instead retorted with,

"I don't, but he is your also your legal guardian so," he made a 'run along then' motion with his hands.

Alex moaned and conceded. Mycroft would skin her too…

"Fine. When is Anthea picking me up?"

"She isn't. She has fallen ill and Mycroft's staff are apparently indisposed with some election somewhere," Sherlock shrugged.

"Excellent, so I have to walk," Alex mumbled sarcastically.

"Yes," Sherlock beamed brightly and slipped into his and John's taxi to take them to St Bart's.

_And no doubt to have some jolly good fun without me, _Alex mulled bitterly.

She turned down the street and headed over to Mycroft's house. It was about two miles from Janus Cars and she couldn't take a cab because Mycroft couldn't risk anyone finding out that Alex regularly visited _the _British Government and took an easy to hijack taxi to get there.

Alex kicked a pebble moodily. She didn't know why she was so angry. Well, no, that was a lie. She knew _exactly_ why she was angry- that bloody bomber. That crying woman had been strapped to that bomb for hours, terrified for what must have felt like days. Alex knew what it felt like to be that terrified and she couldn't imagine it happening for anything longer than _one _hour, never mind _twelve_. She swore that when they found the bastard, she would give him such a punch that he wouldn't be able to move his face for at least a week. Perhaps she would be allowed to use a crowbar…

A sudden ringing to her left caught her attention. Alex turned her head to the source of the noise and shook her head exasperatedly when she saw that it was a public telephone ringing in its booth.

Alex walked up to the booth and picked up the phone.

"Why can't you just wait until I get to yours like a normal person, Uncle Mycroft?" Alex laughed.

_"I like your laugh," _a voice that was definitely not her Uncle's complemented.

Alex's limbs froze. Her smile dropped.

"How did-"

_"Shut the door Alex."_

Feeling that she was in no position to argue, she took the metal door and slid it closed so that she was trapped inside. She began to feel a little claustrophobic.

"What do you want with me? Why won't you speak in your own voice?"

_"So many questions. Inquisitive, hmm. Interesting."_

"Shut up! Look, just leave me alone. I haven't done anything to you. I-If you want fun, I am not your girl. I am nowhere near as good as Sherlock, please just leave me alone," Alex voice was thick with pleading.

_"Ohh, Alessandra. You are so much more fun than Sherlock Holmes. Don't get me wrong, he is fun. But you are a different kind of fun."_

"I have no idea what you mean."

_"You will one day. Now trot along, you don't want to be late for your little get together with Uncle Mycwoft."_

The line buzzed off and Alex let the phone drop and dangle from the cable. She felt sick. Very sick. It was the way he chose his words. _A different kind of fun…_

Alex suddenly burst out of the phone box and had to run into the alleyway next to her. She bent over on her knees and threw up the contents of her stomach. She coughed and spluttered until there was nothing left and she propped herself up against the wall of the block of flats that she was beside. Her throat was burning and a horrible taste lingered on her tongue but that was the least of her worries.

She only had another half a mile to walk to her Uncle's house so she gathered herself up and walked the rest of the way with as much dignity as one that had just vomited could have.

She couldn't have arrived at the gates quick enough and as soon as she was through the door, she retired straight to her bedroom without a word to Mycroft. She collapsed onto her bed and just wanted to go to sleep; wishing that she had gone with Sherlock and never had the bloody phone call. After all, ignorance is bliss.

* * *

Sherlock stood behind the desk at St Bart's alone, having sent John out for breathing too loudly. He took out the sample of Ian Monkford's blood and placed it in a Petrie dish. He squeezed out a drop of liquid from a pipette and let it fall into the blood, causing the mixture to fizz and react. Just as the drop fell, the pink iPhone in Sherlock's pocket began to ring.

"Hello?"

_"The clue's in the name. Janus Cars."_

_"_Why would you be giving me a clue?"

_"Why does anyone do anything? Because I'm bored. We were made for each other, Sherlock."_

"Then talk to me in your own voice," Sherlock smirked.

"_Patience. Oh and you might want to keep a closer rein on your little girl, she is in quite a state. A bug must be going around."_

The line went dead as Sherlock saw red. What had Alex done now? Wasn't she meant to be with Mycroft? Sherlock picked up his own mobile and rang Mycroft.

_"Mycroft Holmes."_

"Mycroft, is Alex with you?"

_"Yes, she stormed in a few minutes ago. Have you upset her again?"_

"Look, someone has talked to her or something but apparently she isn't well. If you can slot it into your teeming agenda, could you please check that our niece isn't dead," Sherlock drawled.

_"Will you ever grow up?"_

"I think you know the answer to that. Tut tut Mycroft, and to think, people used to regard you as the smart one…"

* * *

Mycroft put the phone down with a long suffering sigh. His brother really was a one off. Thankfully, his team seemed to have the elections under control so he found himself with a portion of free time on his hands so he could follow out his orders. Mycroft scowled, that would be the day; him taking orders from his own _little brother_. When he was little, he used to call Sherlock his _little bother _instead…

_"Mother!" a five year Sherlock cried from the top of the stairs._

_Mrs Holmes rolled her eyes and put down her book to see what the commotion was about. She shuffled into the hallway to find her youngest son with a murderous expression on his face._

_"What is wrong, dear?" she asked kindly._

_"Mycroft took my worm and threw it out the window!"_

_"Where were you with your worm, dear?" _

_"Dissecting it in my bloody sock drawer, mother!" Mycroft yelled from his bedroom._

_"Wallace! Language!" Mrs Holmes scolded._

_The door of Mycroft's bedroom swung open as his head appeared next to his brother's._

_"My name is Mycroft."_

_"No, dear. It is Wallace Michael Mycroft Holmes-" Mrs Holmes started patiently._

_"Are we just forgetting about my worm?!" Sherlock exclaimed with a stricken look on his little face._

_"Don't interrupt, sweetheart," Mrs Holmes reprimanded tiredly. _

_"Yeah, don't interrupt grown up talk," Mycroft added snottily._

_"Oh sorry, Wallace," Sherlock mocked._

_"Shut up William," Mycroft hissed._

_"You are lowering the IQ of the whole room."_

_"You are lowering the IQ of the whole street."_

_"You are meant to be the smart one; you can't even come up with an original insult!"_

_"Goldfish!"_

_Mrs Holmes sighed sadly at her two boys and picked her book back up. Hopefully they would be done by sundown. _

_In fact, it was three hours later that worn looking Mycroft came into the kitchen and took out a chocolate cake bar and sat opposite his mother. He chomped down on his treat contently._

_"You really should be nice to your little brother," Mrs Holmes told him gently with a motherly smile. _

_"Little Brother, more like Little Bother," Mycroft raised his voice so Sherlock would be able to hear him from upstairs; "There's an original insult for you!"_

Mycroft couldn't help but smile at the memory.

**Author's Note: Little bit of kid!lock there :) I hope you all enjoyed it!**

**Thank you to:**

**Georgyann Wayson**

**gina1120**

**Just Kloe Please**

**AtomicTardis**

**Amelia Duncan**

**for following/favouriting :)**

**Because I don't have your profile to send an e-mail to,**

**thekeytosherlock- Hey! That sounds really cool, which country do you live in? I live in England and I don't think that I have ever seen any of those around near my home but that isn't really saying much- I am not the most observant person in the world haha. Thanks for the review!**

**There we go,**

**Please Review,**

**-Abby**

**X**


	46. Chapter 46

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock blah blah.**

**Author's Note: Hello! I am so sorry about the long wait but this chapter has been very difficult to write (you will see what I mean). I have been postponing it and I couldn't put it off any longer so, here you go-**

_Previously:_

_Mycroft put the phone down with a long suffering sigh. His brother really was a one off. Thankfully, his team seemed to have the elections under control so he found himself with a portion of free time on his hands so he could follow out his orders. Mycroft scowled, that would be the day; him taking orders from his own little brother. When he was little, he used to call Sherlock his little bother instead…_

Mycroft opened the door to Alex's room slowly and peeked in. Alex by this time had sat up and propped her back against the headrest behind her.

"Hello, dear. Sherlock said that you were feeling under the weather."

"Well then Sherlock is wrong. I am completely fine, just worn out a little," she lied with a convincing smile.

Mycroft made his way over to her and rested the back of his hand against her forehead.

"You do feel a little warm," he noted.

Alex wriggled from under his arm and stood up as straight as she could.

"Stop trying to be John," she joked, feeling that jokes would make her lie seem more natural, "I only came here because Sherlock made me. I am sorry but I have to get back. We are so close to solving this case now that I don't want to miss the best bit."

"I thought you said, and I quote, 'the thrill is in the chase, never in the capture'?" Mycroft raised a teasing eyebrow at her.

"Ha-ha," she said dryly as she collected her coat from the desk chair and headed to the door. Just as she got close however, Mycroft caught her arm.

"The nature of your presence is not merely social, Alex."

Alex frowned at him, "What do you mean?"

"Do you remember the case with the lithium poisoning?"

Alex nodded nonplussed.

"A young girl was killed linking with the case- Laura Mauston," Mycroft stated carefully.

As soon as the name was mentioned, Alex felt her blood run colder than it already was. Laura. Oh, so much guilt.

"W-what about her?" Alex stumbled.

"Her body," he paused as Alex flinched, "unlike her mother's, was never found. Until now. Laura was found in a warehouse yesterday evening by a cleaner. The girl will be buried with her mother and you have been invited to attend the service."

Alex was stumped. Why would she be invited? She practically murdered Laura! No! Alex berated herself. She couldn't think like that, she would be eaten alive by her own conscience.

"When is it?" she asked, taking herself by surprise at the lack of warble in her voice.

"Tomorrow noon at the same church as your Mother's funeral was," Mycroft replied softly.

Anthea had told him that Alex would find it difficult. Not that he completely understood however, why should Alex feel guilty? She didn't kill the Maustons. Even though, he didn't understand, he didn't want Alex to feel worse than she probably already felt.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to," he consoled.

"I will. It is the least I can do."

An uneasy silence fell over the room. Alex shuffled on her feet and finally proceeded out of the door without a goodbye to her Uncle, she didn't think that her voice could cope for another sentence. She would much rather leave with some dignity than a sobbing, guilt-ridden mess. She checked her phone and saw that John had text her his and Sherlock's whereabouts so she set off on foot once more.

Mycroft watched her go sadly. Why did everything seem to get piled on his niece?

* * *

Alex was already at Mr Monkford's car at Scotland Yard when Sherlock, John and Lestrade entered from down the stairs.

"Hello, Alex!" John exclaimed in surprise, he hadn't expected her back so soon.

"Hey," she replied quietly and kept her gaze on the car so as not to make eye contact.

If Sherlock hadn't been so wrapped up in the case, he would have deduced what was up in the first thirty seconds. But that was _if. _He simply walked around to the front of the car and faced Lestrade.

"How much blood was on that seat, would you say?"

"How much? Um, about a pint," Lestrade answered.

"Not 'about'. _Exactly_ a pint. That was their first mistake. The blood's definitely Ian Monkford's but it's been frozen."

Alex forgot about the funeral for the moment and listened to Sherlock raptly, it was after all, the answer to the puzzle that they had all been trying to solve.

"Frozen?"

"There are clear signs. I think Ian Monkford gave a pint of his blood some time ago and that's what they spread on the seats," Sherlock explained confidently.

"_Who_ did?" Alex insisted.

"Janus Cars. The clue's in the name."

"The… god with two faces," John tried uncertainly.

Sherlock nodded.

"Exactly."

Alex had never heard of the god Janus before. She probably hadn't been listening in that class, if she had ever been taught that at all.

"So what exactly happened, I don't understand," she said to Sherlock.

"They provide a very special service. If you've got any kind of a problem – money troubles, bad marriage, whatever – Janus Cars will help you disappear. Ian Monkford was up to his eyes in some kind of trouble – financial, at a guess; he's a banker. Couldn't see a way out. But if he were to vanish, if the car he hired was found abandoned with his blood all over the driver's seat…" Sherlock trailed off and allowed the others to fill in the rest.

"So where is he now?" John questioned.

"Columbia," Sherlock replied simply as he slammed the passenger door shut.

"_Columbia_?!"

"Mr. Ewert of Janus Cars had a twenty thousand Columbian peso note in his wallet and quite a bit of change, too. He told us he hadn't been abroad recently, but when I asked him about the cars, I could see his tan line clearly. No-one wears a shirt on a sunbed. That, plus his arm."

"His arm?"

"Kept scratching it, didn't he?" Alex tried and continued at Sherlock's encouraging nod, "Obviously irritating him, and bleeding."

"Why?" Sherlock tested.

"Because he'd recently had a booster jab. Hep-B, probably. Difficult to tell at that distance," Alex finished.

"Conclusion: he'd just come back from settling Ian Monkford into his new life in Columbia. Mrs Monkford cashes in the life insurance and she splits it with Janus Cars."

"M-_Mrs _Monkford?" John stuttered in disbelief- that crying woman knew all along?

"Oh yes. She's in on it too. Now go and arrest them, Inspector. That's what you do best," Sherlock turned to Alex and John, "_We_ need to let our friendly bomber know that the case is solved."

Sherlock looped a celebratory arm around Alex's shoulders and yelled,

"I am on _fire!"_

As soon as the trio arrived back at Baker Street, Sherlock dived straight for the laptop and, with it being dark and unsafe at the moment, Alex double backed on herself and went down to Mrs Hudson's flat. She knocked on the door and tutted when she saw that it wasn't even locked. Alex walked straight in and (ignoring how easy it would be for someone to walk as she was) found Mrs Hudson in the kitchen, humming as she stirred some cake batter.

"Oh, hello dearie!" Mrs Hudson greeted after a moment of shock.

"Hello, Mrs H. You really need to remember to lock your door, it isn't safe here anymore," Alex warned seriously.

"Oh nonsense," Mrs Hudson brushed off as she flicked the kettle on, "I have lived here for nearly twenty years and I have always kept my door open. I have had no trouble cross paths with me yet."

_You didn't have the bane of most serial killers living upstairs then,_ Alex countered in her head.

"Just promise me that you will lock it from now on."

Mrs Hudson poured some tea into two mugs and beckoned for Alex to follow her into the living room.

"Whatever you say, Alex. But I really don't see the point of it," the elderly lady held the cup to her lips, "Ooh, did you see that person on Connie Prince's show the other day. She was a size thirty and Connie managed to fit her into a size _twenty eight!"_

Alex laughed out loud at how a conversation with Mrs Hudson could turn from imperative security measures to Connie Prince in a matter of seconds.

* * *

It was morning when Alex woke up in the guest bedroom at Mrs Hudson's. The bed was uncomfortable with lack of use but it was better than the sofa arrangement that had taken place the previous night. Alex still didn't feel comfortable leaving Mrs Hudson alone at night, though, so it seemed that the bedroom would get some use over the next few days after all.

Alex slipped out quietly as Mrs Hudson was still asleep and went up to the flat. She was pleasantly surprised to see John already dressed and about to head out. Sherlock was of course in the same boat but that was hardly surprising.

"Good morning," Alex smiled.

John returned the gesture whilst Sherlock continued to stare at the pink iPhone in his hand as if daring it to ring.

"Yeah, I must have fallen asleep down there by accident last night," Alex lied.

John smiled tenderly at her,

"I may not be your Uncle but I am not stupid you know," he laughed good-naturedly, "I know the real reason that you have spent the last few nights with Mrs Hudson and I think that it is very honourable of you."

Alex blushed under the praise and tried to find something to change the subject with.

"So where are you two going this early?"

"We are going for breakfast."

"_Sherlock_ is getting breakfast?" Alex asked incredulously.

"Don't be silly, me and you are. He will sit opposite and watch the phone most probably. Are you up for it?"

"Of course!"

Who wouldn't say no to a full English on a dreary November morning?

They settled for a café just around the corner, deciding to give Speedy's since they had their custom almost every day. The café was relatively full but there was a free table just to the left of the door that, needless to say, was pounced on by Alex and saved for John and Sherlock.

Sherlock slipped wordlessly into (as John predicted) the seat opposite and fixed his eyes on the phone on the table. John rolled his eyes and sat next to Alex.

It wasn't long before two Full English Breakfasts were served in front of them and were devoured.

"Feeling better?" Sherlock finally spoke.

Alex nodded her head.

" Mmm. You realise we've hardly stopped for breath since this thing started?" John scooped another forkful of food into his mouth, "Has it occurred to you-?"

"Probably," Sherlock cut in, making Alex giggle slightly.

"No – has it occurred to you that the bomber's playing a game with you? The envelope; breaking into the other flat; the dead kid's shoes – it's all meant for you."

"Yes, I know."

"Is it him, then? Moriarty?"

"Perhaps."

Alex felt a shiver up her spine as she remembered the phone call yesterday. _A different kind of fun._

Suddenly, the phone signalled a message and Sherlock played it. Two short pips followed by a longer bleep rang out and a photograph of a smiling woman filled the small screen. Sherlock spun the phone around to show Alex and John.

"Well that could be anybody," he indicated.

"Well, it _could_ be, yeah. Lucky for you, I've been more than a little unemployed," John said as he stood up.

Alex looked over to the phone and her face flooded with recognition. She turned and beamed at John.

"How do you mean?" Sherlock asked in bewilderment.

"Lucky for you, dear Uncle, Mrs Hudson and I watch far too much telly," Alex grinned, enjoying the feeling of knowing something that Sherlock didn't.

The feeling was short lived however when John picked up the remote and switched the channel over to Connie Prince's show.

The phone immediately rang and Alex scrambled around to Sherlock's side of the table to listen as he answered the impending call.

"Hello?"

_"This one ... is a bit ... defective. Sorry," _the shaky voice of an old woman narrated, "_She's blind. This is ... a funny one."_

Alex's jaw set in pure rage. Hell was too good for the bloody bomber in her opinion.

_"I'll give you ... twelve hours."_

"Why are you doing this?" Sherlock demanded.

_"I like ... to watch you ... dance."_

The phone shut off and Alex banged her fist down on the table in fury. Defective? Defective?! _He _was the defective one!

"Alex, calm down. Getting hysterical isn't going to help her," Sherlock snapped irritably as he swung his coat onto his shoulders.

Alex gathered the dirtiest look she could and threw it at her Uncle as he stood.

"Where are we going?" John asked.

"St Bart's," Sherlock replied.

Alex was just about to follow them out of the door when a woman sat at the table next to her caught her arm.

"Sorry, love but I have had a text for you," the stranger told her with a completely baffled look on her face, "It is from a Mr Holmes."

Alex rolled her eyes.

"I am so sorry about that. Could I have a look at the message, please?"

The woman seemed understandably reluctant to hand her expensive mobile over to a teenage girl so kept a firm grip on the phone and showed Alex the screen. The girl felt her stomach plummet.

**The funeral starts in one hour- Mr Holmes.**

Mycroft obviously hadn't put his first name for security reasons but Alex didn't care about that. The woman holding the phone must have read the message as she gave Alex a sympathetic smile. Alex didn't have the heart to smile back and just walked dejectedly out of the café to where Sherlock and John were waiting impatiently next to a cab outside.

As soon as they saw Alex, they piled in and held the door open for her.

"I will have to catch you up," she informed them regretfully.

"Are you okay?" John asked in concern.

"Yeah, I um… just have some stuff to do."

"What stuff-?"

"Oh what does it matter John," Sherlock interrupted before turning to the cabbie, "St Bart's hospital."

And with that, the cab sped off leaving a crestfallen Alex standing on the curb. She had noticed that Sherlock was getting increasingly more… well… _Sherlock _towards her. It had always been that he would be rude to everybody else but be a big ol' softy with Alex. It seemed that that was starting to change.

Alex walked back to Baker Street to change into a black dress that Anthea had bought her last week. It was just above knee length with a grey flower pattern up the side but Alex really couldn't care less, as long as she looked presentable and was in black. Her hair was put up in a bun and a pair of flat, black shoes later, she was ready to go.

It was only a short walk away to the same place that she had ran to when things had gotten too much at school. The same cemetery. Only this time, a long black hearse was parked amongst other cars outside. People were milling around all dressed in the same drab clothing and –Alex noticed with a sad sigh- all with families. Not one person was on their own apart from Alex.

She awkwardly walked over to a tall man that was easily identified as Mr Mauston, Laura's father.

"Hello Mr Mauston," Alex greeted respectfully as she held out her hand, "I am so sorry about what has happened."

Mr Mauston took it in his own shaky ones.

"Don't be, child. It was not your fault."

Mr Mauston then turned to who appeared to be his crying sister and held her gently, obviously trying to be strong for the family that he had left.

Alex suddenly felt that she was intruding and was glad when they were all called in to the church. Alex took a seat at the very back and tried to swallow the lump in her throat as the little girl's screams echoed in her ear. The screams were drowned out however, when the soft notes of the hymns were sang. The goodness prevailed over the torture and Alex found her mouth moving to words that she didn't even know stringed together to form the most beautiful melody.

The song ended with a sniffle from many and Alex closed her eyes as the hardest part began. The small coffin, containing a small body was vigilantly carried in and rested atop a frame at the front of the church. Alex remembered her own mother's coffin resting there, but this one was different. This coffin was small. Too small.

A scuffle made Alex open her eyes again as she looked up to the stand where Mr Mauston stood to deliver the speech.

"My beautiful daughter, Laura Mauston," his voice cracked and already soft whimpers were heard from others, "is being laid to rest here today, long before her time. She was only two when she was cruelly taken from us, the people who loved her most. She was the loveliest girl that you would ever meet and caused so much delight from the day that she was born. She always said," a choked sob escaped Mr Mauston's lips but he bravely soldiered on, "my little girl always said that she wanted to be an actress. She said that she wanted to be on a big stage and sing and dance. Well now, my sweet, precious girl, you can sing and dance and act on the biggest stage that I know. And don't you worry, because your Mummy will look after you up there and I will see you both very soon."

Not a single face was clear of a tear as Mr Mauston carried on.

"But we have here today amongst friends and family, a very special girl indeed. A certain Dr John Watson told me, on the day that my princess passed away, someone tried to help. Someone, a lot younger than any of us here. She went through enormous pain and terror to try and help Laura and my wife and to her I am eternally grateful. She tried to salvage the family that I have lost. She tried to preserve the joyful Christmas mornings. She tried to piece together one of the jigsaws that my sweetheart loved to play with. And this girl, deserves the happiness and life that my darling daughter could not have. And so I wish for you all to stand for Alessandra Maybelline Holmes."

Alex looked up to Mr Mauston with tear filled eyes as all of the inhabitants of the church stood and turned to her with watery smiles upon their streaked faces. It was Mr Mauston that started off the clap with a slow, deep hit of his hands as he finally allowed his mask to break and tears to roll down his face. Soon, the rest of the hall joined in the applause and Alex felt like she was made of helium.

Through the applause, the signal was given for the coffin to be moved outside into the graveyard. Everybody followed but they still kept clapping as they cried. It continued as the coffin was lowered into the ground and even as if was covered by the earth. Alex looked through her tears and saw the headstone,

**Laura Mauston**

**Beloved daughter, friend and cousin.**

**2012-2014**

**Our concrete angel, taken too soon**

The applause finally died down and Alex felt Mr Mauston's arms wrap around her. His whole body was shaking with sobs.

"You are the bravest, kindest girl that I have ever met and I wish you all the best," he whispered into her ear thickly.

Alex broke away from him and gave a final smile to the people crying over the headstone as she made her way over to the other side of the yard to her mother's headstone.

"I think I did okay today Mum. I didn't deserve all of that though, I didn't save them…." Alex looked down in regret, "I have to go otherwise Sherlock will get angry. That is if he notices me anymore."

Alex pressed a kiss to her mother's name and walked out of the gates to head to St Bart's. She had let one case lead to death, she wasn't about to let another one.

**So, there it was. Urgh, I cried writing this chapter. At least I was on my own otherwise I would have been carted off.**

**Thank you to:**

**TheDeadlyJeux**

**LivyChapman**

**NyxLoon**

**Lunaconspiracy365**

**EisForElephant**

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